Write

I never wrote

When I was young

Plain paper

Staring at me me

Daring me to

Demonish it's pristine state

But

What if I'm delerious?

But quite serious

In sea of purple lakes

In a mountain of blue hills

Eaten by a red fish

Flung across the Atlantic

Screaming louder than ever

That's what writing feels like

It doesn't make any sense