Possession of a Writer

Awoken in the night

Before the hour of human confliction

I am in reverie

Abandoning reality

In nigh paradise

I hold my pen

My eyes are glazed

As I blindly scribble upon paper

My script nearly unreadable to any other eye

Thoughts fleeting under closer inspection

I hasten to capture them all

Hand moving in pace with rapid scrawls

Quickly hunting changing epiphanies

I only have until the Earth becomes touched

By fickle beings

As cacography is uncovered beneath the void on the page

I squander under night's protection

Writing, always writing.

The End

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