Losing the Write

I saw the importance of the things that I say When my train of thoughts was ferried away A sentiment scrounger enticed me to follow Leaving me speechless in gloom with the shadows My lips, they were sewn with threads of forbidden My heart couldn't handle the sudden constriction And behind my back, rope tethered my hands I might as well bury my head in the sand My writings are pus squeezed from an infection A pin for the bubble, releasing the tension A voice when it seems I've got nothing to say Words knock on my door and ask me to play Coz words have a way of glimmering bright Supplying the wings to fly for the light Recompensed the ransom, at last I am free To write, to breathe, to think and believe.