Writers are quite dangerous.
She came to the bar, to watch,
And listen, to hear stories.
Carefully, I tread. For fear,
That my own diction, would become
Trapped in her world of fiction.
Though, of course we swapped pieces.
And still, only selected to paint,
A vision of my own creation.
Small freedoms, but they matter most.
As I'm a prisoner to demon's I host.
Be wary poets, of power most foul.
Ensnaring half spectres of being,
In a prose, a thought or a feeling.
Reality is as real as you write it.
