The mind of my hand

It trembles as I type
trying to tell the world what's inside
it stops for a moment -- hesitant
is this what I really want

sitting, rekindling every word
not of the mouth, but of the heart
once again, my pencil is my sword

rhymes and rhythms deeply buried
letters and words are clashing
i forgot to be perfervid
now, my heart can't stop thumping

the mind pounding, battling so hard
cutting the stitched strings
sewn on my lips, my soul, my heart
now ready to bleed in writings and drawings