the writer

I have a heart made of words, 

they flow through my veins. 

I want to give, 

inspire with the universe blinding 

beauty of language,

inspire like I was. 

The little girl under the bed sheet 

with wide eyes and a flashlight, 

poring over somebody else’s gift

to the world. 

I am at home with a pen and paper, 

thoughts waiting patiently in my fingertips. 

I wouldn’t do it for the money, 

not the money,

but the stage,

and the TV. 

The hardcover binding.

The comic book.

My soul in every page. 

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