Writer's Block

I always speak with clarity,
Upon a written page.
Yet I fail to voice my thoughts,
Upon a public stage.

Words are bent to every whim,
Only when I'm alone.
People tend to fray my nerves,
And turn my brain to stone.

It is a secret talent,
some magic I can see.
Pulling stories from thin air,
and setting each one free.

These tales are given voices,
since mine is hard to hear.
Forging words inside my lair,
Without a doubting fear.

This is my sacred sanctum,
Which no one would dare pry.
The hidden treasured refuge,
Where all my dreams can fly.