It's been a while since I used a pen
To journey into a world only existent in the confines of my imagination.
It's been quite a while since I've dipped my feet into the waters of my creativity
To see how insane a piece of writing my mind births claims I am.
It's been a long time since I did that thing that truly helped me
Escape reality... Or even morph reality
Into a beautiful fantasy
And that thing posed as a really good justification as to why I choose to be antisocial and isolated:
It's a healthy kind of escape.
And the only kind of escape that hasn't screwed me over in the long run.
Because the pen only helps me bleed out pains,
Immortalize joys
And gives me the reins of a loyal steady steed
Whose sole purpose in life - Or fantasy -
Is to take me away from the present and transport me to a safe haven hidden in my cranium.
YOU ARE READING
Writer's Whispers
PoetryIt's only at night that you hear the faint whispers of the writer's pen trailing paper. [COMPLETED]
