A Worthy Curse

In dedication to writers of every nature and the most blessed curse and gift we all retain.

I'm hoping this ink will erase
Wash away my purple sadness
And darkened emotions
Disassemble all verbal existence
No sign that I was ever here

But words live even in the pages of blank books
With unwritten potential their spirits do strive
Await for a bleeding poet
To strike virgin paper
And leave their impression
Lock in their secrets
And hid their regrets
Tell of the tales
That no one'll forget

And their lettering will lose all sense
And mean everything at once
For whatever we write is made to be what others make it

A thought has no owner or name
No tag or label
They float around invisibly
And are inevitably contagious
That are particles of the mind
A figment of hope
Imagined reality
Seen through a kaleidoscope

A slice of abnormality
Cuz they're a lot like dreams
In the sense of their fading
Seem so real
When all is degrading

But again I say
Indeed they do strive
Awaken and die
Reborn and fall
Rise up to another
With absolute control

For writers die speechless
When try live their own words
Die so peaceful
In the death of their curse