Writing junkie

Mental engine turned on/
My pen is a blur, so gone/
My thoughts are coming alive/
The creativity of my soul is in overdrive/
My pen will bring about a new world’s birth/
Where my intellect alone will determine its worth/
Will there be peace or situations dire/
Lush green fields or cities of fire/
To write is to become a lyrical God/
A chains to stave off tyranny the likes of general Zod/
I feel it, the it burns up my soul/
Just making it all the more easy to write a junkies role/
It would be a crime to take away my pen/
Equated to a soul slandering sin/
It’s time, time to create/
When I’ll stop is not up for debate/
I don’t know who is in control/
Who is the poet, and who has the pen’s role/
I’m a slave to the passion of writing/
Take me away then, I’m not fighting/
Away to create, It’s something I must do/
It’s the easiest way for me to stay true/

Poetic ice

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