I Write Poetry

A place of respite from the mind,
and it's ever thinking thoughts,
A rest from the questions,
wonderings of do's and do not's,
Fleeing from a feeling a heart,
from memories both dark and light,
Chasing after elusive answers,
are they wrong or are they right,
A burning of one's sanity,
engulfed in hellish fire,
Stuck within this place,
captured in its mire,
Magic and madness linger still,
as shadows flicker and take shape,
An egress from this endless prison,
one from which we desire escape.