My pages

I got pages of ryhmes
Assorted views of different times
food for my soul when I read back the lines

Writing is my perscription
When life is an encryption
I see the world from my own understandable description
Its an intervienous connection between hand and pen
Sending droplets of medication on demand they decend
The page holds my pain because a hand it can lend
Underneath it lies 400 more
As I bow my head its me they pray for

Like 200 sets of hands, they wait for the commands
to help me deal with life and its rediculous demands
Offering my sanity as they lay out the plans.