...was just thinking about a certain literary genius... and then the first line came up...

-Sm, 05/20/04

Poet

Her life is in the pen
as She transcribes
every beat
Her heart has made
every breath
that's past Her lips
imprinting on paper
with ink
that flows through Her
like blood
and sweat and tears

you read Her writings
perceiving but not
Her history
between the lines
of beauty
crafted through genius
you can't quite grasp
Her mind
cutting Her soul
to bleed
upon the page

Her mastery of words
a talent only matched
by few
weaves a tapestry admired
by many
you think She writes
for you but
in reality
She merely made
a bandage
for Her wounded soul