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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Written: September 09, 2023 ______________________________________________________________ In the abyss of night, I'm held captive tight. Addiction to idioms fuels my Phoebus fight. I abide, vouching sporadically to escape, From the clutches of zeal, I can't reshape. But my quill rebels; it won't be subdued. It dances on my fingertips, its blaze renewed. Beleaguered by a kindle of syllables, they persist, Won't charter me to chime, profess, and insist. Oh, the maudlin whispers of writing passion, Entice me; draw me into a bathetic attraction. I whirl to abscond, to relish some release, But the chains of my quill hold me in peace. The words flow through me as a river so fierce, With every pen stroke, my soul finds its release. I'm a jailbird of this art, an enthused devotee, In a realm of words, I rapture my sanctuary. My heart stumbles, as leaves in the fall breeze, But the quill snatches them away with grace and ease. It weaves them into verses, a kernel of emotion, An effusive love, and life's endless commotion. I am bound to this pen, this captive quill, Forever entwined in its enchanting thrill. Despite my huge wack, I cannot escape. Inevitably, it leads me back to my true shape. So I embrace this addiction, this passionate fire. Within its depths, my spirit soars higher. I surrender to the rhythm and melody of words. As they dance upon pages as fluttering birds. In the act of writing, I find my true self. Ink flows freely, such as a river of wealth. I may be a captive to this quill; it's true, But in its captivity, I am set free too. Addiction to writing is a powerful force. It guides me, shapes me, and charts my course. I may be a captive, but I am not alone. With every word written, a connection is sown.
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