The words fall from my fingertips,
Like raindrops slipping down a misty window.
The cogs in my mind are whirring,
With each new possibility making itself shown.
You never know what the next word is.
It changes constantly.
One second I'm writing about love
And I feel inexplicably sad.
The next I'm writing about a figurative person,
Yet somehow, they turn into me.
A writer's work comes alive,
All from the moment when they click the button: