The sight brings in

a flood of ideas

that I cannot control.

 

Characters take on

a mind of their own

only allowing me to relay

THEIR STORY.

 

The eyes inspire

darkness and light,

love and hatred,

freedom and captivity.

 

The sight is what gives me

joy no matter the day

even when the words formed

by the beautiful sound are ugly.

 

My muse is the root

to the words I write

through the painful and exciting

impulse of stomach butterflies.

 

It is not the soul

but rather the shell

that motivates my

need to release through pen.

 

The exterior brings

me fear and comfort

in something I can

dangerusly relate to.

 

My muse will always

inspire me even

when the physical sight is

something I can no longer attain.