I fear if I run out of ink
my thoughts will cease to flow,
No longer free to roam around
where they desire to go.

Caught up in a stasis as my
mind begins to congeal,
Severed from my senses I find
I can no longer feel.

The proof of my existence is
my words upon the page,
Without this free expression I
feel my world is a cage.

How could I ever tell you what
my writing means to me,
Dear children born within my mind
and then I set them free.

I love my thought's many offspring
they're so dear to my heart,
I give them freedom to grow and
with my blessing depart.

I let them go to make their own
way in the world so wide,
My heart nearly bursts they are the
source of my greatest pride.