Write

This hand that shakes and
Grips feverishly to the pen.
Channels emotions consuming, darting, and urging to reach
This paper that sleeps silently beneath my palm.
I might as well write with blood,
Because my words are like disappearing ink.
Letters swirl around my lips,
Yet spew out in gibberish and foreign mind.
I have no time to wash my pain with tears.
I stand strong and write.
For I know the negative energy recedes
When the ink dries.
I laugh and smile at this simple craving,
For exercise of the mind is far better
Than the exercise of tired thoughts and words.
Write now.
Smile now.
This ink is forever my medium.