Writing for me is not as simple as just something I do, its what I am, how I live. |
-Beyond These Paper Walls- by Keaton Foster Folded Shaded Wrinkled in the corners Torn in a few places Beyond these paper walls I have never been I’m right here In an old wooden chair At a faded roll top desk Versions half finished Cover all usable space My mind overfilled There is no foreseeable end I’ll write until my death Until there is nothing left Whichever will come first Never do I give it a second thought Words are to become legends They wait to be used Implemented as I see fit Nothing is something At least in my mind Until I make it so Sure my ego is a bit much But to you I must confess That such an ego comes At a price no one should pay No human being should ever Have to face what I faced I write about it daily I hide it in plain sight Sometimes I make it all fancy Some lines mean nothing to you But to me they are God The sum of it all will eventually Bring clarity to my plight But not anytime soon Beyond these paper walls In the distance There is always a man With a match With an eraser With some method Of irreversible desecration I fear him most of all I have no idea who sent him Was it God above Was it the devil below Or was it both Do each equally have a stake A way to make me pay A further amount Beyond everything I’m unsure But he is always there So precise, so clear Folded Shaded Wrinkled in the corners Torn in a few places Beyond these paper walls Is all that I am building Right now it’s just words Just rhythm and rhymes Just sentences both together And very much alone At this roll top desk I’ll always sit Pen in hand Page to be enslaved Words filling my head Flooding from my finger tips Such beautiful madness Is at least attractive to some Maybe long after this place More will find interest In what I have written In my time here Upon this earth In my time here Upon this old wooden chair… Beyond These Paper Walls Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |