My body's but a host for all my many thoughts.
They get stuck in my veins when trying to reach my heart.
My lungs squeeze them in and out as they slowly struggle across,
My windpipe made of words to slip past my lips of art.
They crash around my stomach when I'm nervous or excited.
Causing little fights with sentences that get scrambled in my throat.
And I'm certain behind my eyes you'll see them messing around- delighted,
As they switch and mix up words to create new poems and quotes.
Inside my body is but a container of all my favorite things;
Lungs made of fairy tales and muscles made of fire,
Vessels made of children's laughter and bones made of wings...
Beneath my skin lives a world of all my many thoughts.
And I’m sure they would frighten and confuse all those who saw.
So I do my best to keep them hidden with my human attire.
For if no one sees what I am then people can't so willingly withdraw.
It's difficult to show people who you are inside when you fear they won't like what they see...