A writer's sober thought

You can take away my pen and paper, I'll write on walls with my ink,
You can kill the shimmer of my stars and I'll borrow a thousand constellations from every poem I have written.
You may leave me seasonless, I'll pluck every rose I have for a different season.
You may choke me, my thoughts will breathe through my fingers and my heart will not stop pulsating.
I don't need your nights nor your seasons. I don't want to write with your ink nor breathe your thoughts.
You can never restrain me, I'm a thousand thoughts roaming.

I'm free.


Written while I was sober.
Don't ask