Blank page of repression.
Where else can I write these words, but here on
the empty page away from prying eyes
and praising sighs.
Where else, but here, can my soul appear in black
and white and cry soft tears
of repressed beauty.
Where else, but here, can I bow my head and utter whispers of truth
to an unknown audience
and silent critics.
Karen Hayward ©2016