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