In-between Ink and Paper

As simply put as I can manage, this poem is about what writing is to me.


In-between Ink and Paper


Crazy is all too commonplace for me.

It’s the head down,

Nose-to-the-grindstone result of lunacy.


Within, I’m bound and determined to take what I have,

Transform it from the past,

Make my disaster a masterpiece.


Through my pen I seem Confident.

Through my speech, Cultured.

Through my demeanor, Circumspect.


I use my words as barricades.

To try and bolster my absent pride.

While behind them I stay dwindling, barely existent but still alive.


In-between Ink and Paper;

Such a plain place for me to hide.

Open and public but obscure and comfortable.


This refuge is my only sanity.

A world apart from everyday absurdity.

The one place I can rest in balance and harmony.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s