The taste of cyanide

I write
To keep that jewel of memory, the fresh set of pain, springing with life,
To keep an eye on my demons, for them to never find a place to hide,
Its but a necessity that I lift my pen, its to cage the chaos of my mind.
& When I am writing those,
the pen glides gracefully across my paper as though whispering secrets
It took the demons, the chaos, the darkness, and questions out of my hearts chambers
Unto the white parchment, where itll remain safe and far from anyones judgment, far from anyones ears.