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.

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