Keys To A Writer's Mind

Words these keys make can be correctted.
Hands these keys feel can make erros.
Mind that compels hands to keys is purfect.

My heart ruins the mind
that compels the hands
to push the buttons
that make the words
to express my mistakes.

Everything can be corrected.
Go ahead, be a fool
for everyone to see.
It can make you happy.
Get noticed and be free.

Words these keys create are self-fulfilling.
Hands these keys feel are trembling.
Mind that compels hands to keys fears.

The heart floods the mind
with emotions wrought,
compelling hands to flee
from keys collecting dust,
expressing your void.

If nothing can be corrected,
then you stop; you are a fool
for everyone to ignore.
Walking in your deluded cloud,
hoping to be noticed, you are alone.

Words these keys conjure stand alone.
Hands these keys feel are cold and aching.
Mind that compelled hands to keys is numb.

The heart can no longer beat,
as pale hands stiffen.
Keys burned black finally proclaim,
the death of true vision.



**I intentionally misspelled in that first stanza to convey a point about the things that restrain one from writing, wanting everything to be perfect the first time out.

Brian Keith Compton