This is not really a poem. But it's what it says at the beginning of my notebook. It's a writer telling of her concentration on writing, and lamenting her dead characters, although that's not really clear. To be honest, I am slightly scared by myself, reading it through now ....
I AM FOCUSED - a writer's lament and oath
I am focused. All I see is the white page, with the crawling letters in blue ink and the black lines that rule my writing. I am focused. It is a focus not of madness, and I am in no way insane. It is the unadulterated focus of pure determination, of sheer will.
I am focused. I cannot let go until all is finished; I will not be released. The focus that is on me is too great for me to be able to escape so easily.
I am focused. All I see is the white page, with the crawling letters in blue ink, black ink, green ink, purple ink, red ink, blood. The blood of those that my words have killed. They crawl from the black lines and swarm into my mind.
They focus me. I am focused.