A sheet of paper is my door

To an undiscovered world.

An idea is the lock.

A pen is the key.

 

A pen in my left hand,

Blank paper before me.

My mind reels at the possibilities.

To write is not the question.

To pick a single idea of many,

Is.

 

Without this door to my imagination,

Without this key to my thoughts,

My sanity would be overtaken

By the words

Longing to be heard.

 

My whims as a poet.

My true love as a romantic.

My torrential downpour of teen angst.

My musings as a writer.

My theories as a scientist.

My feelings as a lover.

My heart as a fighter.

 

To have my door closed

Would be to drown

In an ocean of words.

To be locked in a room

Full of a thousand voices

Screaming for attention

With no escape.

 

A piece of paper 

Is not simply

A piece of paper. 

It is my freedom,

My undiscovered journey,

My reason to live,

My door.