800
Once my mind sets loose,
My pen hits the ground running.
Set on fire,
Running.
Running every line on any page before me.
Ink stock rises, when I'm holding.
I must be on bad mother***er someone told me.
I rise heads from their nocturnal beds.
Shift eyes within all heads.
Created and molded.
I was made detailed and boldly.
They saw one glimpse.
Then It stepped in and stole me.
Gave me freedom of speech,
To say no one withholds me.
That I am free,
Not tied to any tree.
Not tossed into the sea.
Free.
Free, To go back to who created me.
