what writing could be

A daring escape, a reckless adventure.

A drug-addictive-but safe to enjoy.

Release of emotion channeled through ink,

All you need is a mind, paper, and pen.

The pen could be biting, the paper bleeding,

Angry words cut through the pages like knives.

Or blurred letters, smeared in blotches

From tears released by words that cry.

Or joyous refrains scribed in cursive,

Curlicues blooming from happiness bounding.

Profound ideas, scribbled with haste

Before theyre blown away like leaves in the wind.

Despite fears of failure or empty ideas

While conveying a broken soul,

Writing creates a safer space

To both hide from and express the worlds I know.