I write (an original poem)

I write.

Filled to the brim with infinite thoughts, the pen sets me free
Gliding over it's canvas, echoing euphoria and sorrow
Fueled by the ever growing complexities of tomorrow.
Leaving behind traces of a soul, bathed in hyperbole.
Tracing the journey of an insignificant player,
caught in the ultimate tale, questioning the motives of its maker.
Taking solace in the blissful mask of ignorance.

Confided within the walls of convention,
my heart longs for the freedom of an mellow personality
striving for the right to ascension.
The letters forged in the radiant flames of sincerity
Filling the austere void of a lonely dimension,
with the vivid light of conceivable sensibility.

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