Her thoughts bleed onto the paper,
soaking up the words left on her tongue.
She cracks open her heart
wringing out the last bit sensitivity.
Her hands dry and withered,
the ink of a pen smeared on her wrist.
She breathes the depths of her soul into existence.
Her body; the paragraphs wrote in books.
Mind over matter.
Does she mind?
Does it matter?
Questions and answers.
The corpse of research smothers her mind.
She aches for connection with her readers,
Will she go down in history?
Or will she be a forgotten mystery?