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freedom
May 8, 2022
she was filled with
nothingness
for a second
she let herself go
by putting her hands down
only moved by herself
ink runs down her pen as she thrives on writing
simply capturing the moment
she wishes for a war
a spectacular disaster
an earthquake
so splendid and of such poetic perfection
that she had only seen or felt in works of art
when the pen runs dry
there was a door to heaven
the freedom of a flying plastic bag
the rawness of a handwritten play
the selflessness of a moth to a flame
she seeks
for more
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This poem is about the joy of writing that brings to the .