To live a scripted life, a fool must act
The world’s a stage where all we do is play
Some spill their blood to sign a binding pact
As if the words the write are what they’d say
No words are true, come read poetic lies
I spill them on the page, the screen, the ground
The Word Is God (with all that that implies)
What’s lost is only lost until it’s found
If you should lose your ink, you’ve lost your blood
Some writers know the truth of every lie
Some see a drop where others see a flood
Some bleed, and bleed, and bleed, and then they die
But others live forever, by their ink
We are because we write, not simply think.