The pencil in my hand
takes over from my dumb thoughts
of doubt and writes in a way
that I haven’t let it in a while.
It’s freeing, I thin, to be like this
and let my hand take charge
as it writes, words spilling out
like they’ve been locked away
and are now running free
without looking back,
like they’ve been given a chance
to flee – flee into the sunshine
with all their might.