A Lonely Typewriter Date: Sunday, 1st May 2005 @ 07:46:12 PM AEST Topic: Sad Poetry Contributed By: jyssvw22 I have become the words I write My fingers choose the path They write what they please With no regards to me On a canvas of white They become artists Sculpting their minds In plain sight for all to see With no regards to me A lonely typewriter As their accomplice They move at random Strokes of freedom It is inspiration that lets them be Still, with no regard to me A clear bright day The moon shone bright My fingers can create eternity Turn the sun into night Give hope to a dying society Sadly, with no regard to me They can create love Children, family, and a God above My fingers could tell you a story You would never believe Bestow upon you glory With no regard to me So I sit intently And give it me best try I give into their words Their request I can not deny They are my cure, my sanity One day, they will respect me This poem is Copyright © jyssvw22 Important note: ALL POETRY ON THIS SITE IS COPYRIGHT. If you wish to use any poem for any purpose, please either EMAIL Mick from the sites feedback form, or go to the AUTHOR'S site and EMAIL the author for permission. If you Email Mick for permission on any poem that is not his personal works, he will endeavor to contact the author on your behalf. This poem comes from Your Poetry Dot Com https://www.your-poetry.com/ The URL for this poem is: https://www.your-poetry.com/route.php?page=poetry/PoemDetail&story_id=92965