Paper & Pen

Poetry; a peak into the rare recesses of firing synapses.
Perilous bridges of emotionality before the rhyme collapses.
Your petulant limerick tipping off your tongue like waste.
Venting your vapid lyrics without thinking to taste.
A dangerous game, bleeding out your mummified memories in abysmal ink.
Starting the rusted cogs of a war machine, beginning to think.
Hit with cloudless conclusions pasted on stark white.
This manner of torture I find when I write.
Cataclysmic masquerade of the human psyche.
Open the page, let not the sword tread lightly.
Chamleon spirit changes with the wayward wind.
But the inner truth can be found with paper and pen.