Ink blots splatter the writers tablet;
the pens' been posed to long.
Seems when censored
what was freely and uninhibited written,
drys up like a parched desert when no rain falls
Bridled pens become robotic,
when restraints fall upon the nib.
where embers smolder.
Let loose the fetters!
It's frightening to think
someone else dictates your rhythm.
Unleash that which binds
before this too becomes extinct.
Set the poet free.