Thoughts Trapped In Ink

Thoughts trapped in ink, scar the paper's white form As the poet gives way to her quill Letters falling down, not making a sound As they bend and bow to her will She watches the words that's now taking shape As the ink starts to flow from her veins Her paper of white, hold the letters so tight Making sure that its captive remains Thoughts trapped in ink, now a whisper of life Born from the lost poet's soul Her words come alive as they blossom and thrive Refusing to relinquish control She relies on her muse as it shouts out commands Telling her quill what to write Her poem is finished, when her pain has diminished As she writes 'til late in the night Thoughts trapped in ink, are silent, yet loud The only way thoughts can be heard All has been said, when her poem is read Her thoughts, becoming a word