My mind trips
Slowly coming
To the point where
My thoughts move
From my brain
To my hand
And from the tip of this pen
Rhythmically flow
Words that probably still fail to
Paint my picture perfectly
But
I still have you captured
My mistake
A beautiful disaster
You've become the bait
You can now call me master
Got you stuck on my words like
"Where's the next chapter?"
But really ain't much to my stories
Not many happily ever
After I'm done writing
You continue reading
Between the lines
Listening when I'm not writing
Or speaking
The picture I paint suddenly awakes
And takes on a new meaning
A life of his or her own
You say what I meant
Never knowing you're wrong
But if the blood my pen bleeds
Saves a life or even
Makes your mundane Monday morning bright
Then who am I to say what's
Right.... When I just saved all of the you that was left?