The Writing Well


Words wriggle through my pen's tip

toppling into the page in lines.

Truth stands at the end waiting to


His stenographer, your's somehow, succeeds in 

stopping two wrong words from splashing in

while five hissing sentances slither down.

Truth steps foward to peer into my well of words to witness how

    I have facilitated

                            His reflection.


                                        Three lies wriggle and ripple the water.

I dive down to kill the serpants.

They tie their necks around mine 

as I 

bite and grab theirs-- a chocking race --

My opponents whisper themselves into my ear

but soon they are still.

My struggle finished,

Truth looks down at me seeing what I see as I look at Him.


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