I see your words,
They explode from your pen,
And attack whomever looks upon them,
As if a rabid chimera.

I see your words,
And I feel the pain,
endured upon writing them.
Writing with a writhing wrist.

I see your words,
And I am frightened by them.
I see them morph into monsters,
Right in front of my eyes.

I see your words,
And they haunt me.
They follow me everywhere,
Reminding me I can't make you happy.

I see your words,
Unmasked and raw.
But I must master the art,
Of maskery and disguise myself.

I see your words,
Float from your mouth,
Jagged and angry,
Hoping you do not jump from the cliff you created.

I see your words,
And they inspire me.
So now it is I,
Writing with a writhing wrist.

Jotting my passion down with fury,
Creating a fire formed from phonetics.
Angry that I am fighting for an impossibility.
Angry for not being enough.

I see your words,
And they sting like the truth.
They singe my spirits,
And put shackles upon my shins.

I see your words,
And I am captivated-
No, better yet, enslaved,
Never to be freed from them.

I see your words,
And they change my world.