Comfort
There's just some comfort of having a pen nestled in my hand,
A notebook at the palm of my wrist, and thoughts eager to find rest on
Paper lines.
There's just some comfort
In knowing the never ending possibilities of words and the stories they hold.
How many heart breaks have they heard?
And how many tales
Have been left untold?
There's just some comfort
In the concept of secrecy
For words are locks only hearts hold the key to.
For words such as these
Belong in chambers far beyond reach.
There's just some comfort
In knowing that I have power in my words
And that I hold words
In my power.
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