Upon the Pages of my Mind
Alone, surrounded by the whisperings of characters
Whose presence they refuse to abandon
I am never truly alone nor
Have I been since I opened that first book
This world of my imagination released much
As the first hinges creaked on Pandora’s illustrious box.
And so I sit here, keyboard at my fingers my attention
Focused not on what I hear but rather
What is playing upon my mind’s stage whether
It be dramatic or comedic or horrific I give myself fully
To its rendition for I am but the recorder, the playwright, the writer
Blessed or cursed to give these willful personas life upon the pages
Of my mind.
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