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.
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