Chapter 1: Confession of a scribe
Confession of a scribe
When I’m lost and have no aim
All the thoughts I have that glitter
Find me covered up in shame,
Make me feel just like a quitter.
What you see here is cathartic.
When I make mistakes and tumble,
I absolve my sins through writing
And that pays my dues in double.
Then I find that to be voided
Of all happiness and goals,
Is a vessel filled with chances
To find worth in what I lost.
Who am I? I’m just a scribe
That can find no better use
For the time she has been wasting
And the talent she abused.
Heart is beating, ears are humming,
mind’s composing, hands are writing
And I can see the silver lining
When the words I set on paper
All have meaning and are rhyming.