The Writer Inside

I won't show this to anyone--

not anyone at all.

A monster lives within my head,

lives waiting for my call.

I call on him then pen the words,

the words escaping me;

Expressing things pent up inside--

they flow, and make me free.

It is not I that write these words;

I only hold the pen.

The monster thinks up every line,

and I, his puppet, bend.

I dare not battle the monster,

for he'd win every fight...

I fear what he will think up next

and force my hand to write.