My Worlds Mind

In my hand, I hold my ever present pen,
I like to think it is my idea of zen.
I await for thoughts to come into my head,
my ink of choice is usually red.

I wait for my hand and mind to become warm,
I ready myself for the oncoming storm.
As I start to write on the blank white page,
my hand moves with a focused rage.

I always put down what I think and feel,
sometimes it is imagined, other times real.
All different styles of writing I like to use,
sometimes it is like a well-lit fuse.

All subjects, I wish to explore,
I never try to close any door.
I like to think about death and life,
I balance on a double-bladed knife.

When in this little world of my mine,
sometimes I even feel kind of fine.
My mind has nothing at all to fear,
not even if I were to shed a tear.

There is only one thing that I dread,
when the words in my head, fall away dead.
I see my entire world with open eyes,
when my pen stops, my world dies!!