The Writer’s Pencil

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.

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