Chosen Words
My inkwell runneth over
Trying to reach my quill
My words, fighting for the paper
These prisoners of my will
Anticipation fills the air
As words in silent, fall
Dreams of recognition
With each one that I call
They look unto the poet
Begging for admission
Hoping to make a difference
While bowing in submission
They wait their turn begrudgingly
Patience is nonexistent
Demanding the poet's attention
Being loud and quite persistent
The words the poet chooses
Live on in silent bliss
Unused words are cast aside
Lost to the abyss
The poem now completed
The poet can finally rest
The words have all been chosen
It's time for the poet's test
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