Inside my mind, my words do not fight to exist, nor do they hide and refuse to make known. They do not push, they do not shove out of fear of losing their turn. They are not awkward and unsure, for they know their presence is faultless.
They are lengthy and full in existence, never lacking, never-failing to both give and receive. Inside they are safe, they are cherished, they are wanted, and they are understood. Outside does not offer comprehension. No other words out there are like them, so literal.
Elusive, protected, shallow words do not play well with validity. They bully my words and make them feel as unsubstantial as they are.
So inside they are vast and outside they are limited, bounded, until they find an island of reciprocity, among an ocean of hypocrisy, where they step out of within and offer a world a view only they can paint.
And there on that island…finally…they are the same outside as they are inside.