Slave to the keyboard,
neck arched, wrists aching.
Eyes closed, clickety-clack,
a new story in the making.
Take my heart and soul,
twist my words into fire;
burn black font up the page,
my voracious literary sire.
A violent mental tug of war frees
the drip-drop patterned thoughts.
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words will be my chosen lot.