Writing Poem by Chelsey M. Smith
Writing
My hands itch
To put words down on paper,
To express my thoughts
Through pen,
Through language and verse.
My skin crawls with the need
And before I know it,
The need is overtaking me until I can think of nothing else.
I start to tremble
And slowly, as I touch my pen to the paper,
I find fulfillment.
A satisfaction that to no other can be compared.
Writing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 11:46:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
