Poetry is my blank paged bible, my desolate scripture, my calligraphic beckon, my feather-inked-tip to empower the thoughts that run.

The pressure, this monster that builds inside me only fades to release.
I can't let this bad wolf grow, the beast needs to be sown, into the fibers of these pages, advice spoken from the wisest of the sages.

This literature, this free world, rids me from my worries and silences the flurry, that spins and rages inside of my heart and soul. Silences the whispering foes. I only wonder why I let it go.

Hello Poetry, I need you.