The Kidnapping

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.