The Pawn

I sit down softly in my wooden chair off 

into the blank nothingness, 

I begin to stare In my dripping wet fingers, 

I hold my little book 

Do I keep it closed or take a chance and look 

I decide to open it to an empty page 

Now the whole world is my stage 

I give over control to my creative mind 

To my surprise their are endless words for me to find

Some words are big and some are very small 

On the paper the ink from my pen begins to crawl 

Line by line it forever flows 

Where it is headed nobody truly knows

The ink knows what to do 

Most of the time it bleeds blue 

' I just let it do what it will

Sooner or later the page does fill 

I let the ink drip out like bullets from a gun

The next thing you know, 

the writing is done I slowly put my book 

'back on the shelf once more 

To my imagination, 

I again slam the door of my own mind, 

I am simply just a pawn 

I am forever awaiting the upcoming dawn.