I am a writer with no topic,
But everything to be said.
I am in love with the scene of blank pages,
But am terrified by their audacity.
I could script a scene of poets,
But lose sense between the rhymes.
I could press ink lightly to the pages,
But bleed deeply through their words.
I have the patience to sculpt every line,
One by one,
But no tolerance for it to be left unsaid.
I have a world of inspiration,
Day by day,
But only moments to take everything in.
I am a writer with no one topic,
Because everything must be said