I Wrote

I was not alive

until I wrote my own birth

to start writing death

I was not yet dead

until the pen left the page

and I found silence

If nature made me

then I will remake nature

and claim my new birth

I grew to fill pages

and shrunk to become a word

yet never changed

I learnt cruel freedom

and loving cages barred

all fearful, unknown

I drew my own map

devoid of directions home

but all seen was mine

When I returned

the ink was stained to nothing

and I found no path

I found a new page

still blank and all unmarked

but I had no more

Confronted with space

I wept deleting tears

and lost even hope

I prayed and hoped

for new words you would bestow

but we both lost faith

We had no story

but in time we told ourselves

a new type of tale

For more from me you can check out my collection No Cure for Shell Shock – available in paperback and digital formats. Or you can try any of my other work here – variously available as ebooks or paperbacks.