I picked up the pen.

I was just writing

Nothing important

I picked up the pen.

I started to write.

I didn’t know where it would go

A romance, mystery, or just an entry

I started to write.

I didn’t stop.

I had no idea where all of the words came from –

The lines kept filling, and the pages kept turning

I didn’t stop.

I put down the pen.

My heart and soul now poured onto pages of scribbles,

My own desires and secrets whispered from pen to paper.

Every mark that dripped from the black ink, now stained my own hands.

I was now out of words. It is done.

I put down the pen.