Speak, sing, write, act
Till your voice can no more
And your face can’t twitch a muscle
And your hand cramps and becomes sore
With blisters and splotches of ink and blood
But don’t stop
Don’t be a passer by
The one who sees but never does
Don’t be inanimate
Give those homeless words
That you see on the side of the street,
Known in the deep crevices of your mind
Don’t let them stay cold, hungry, unloved…
Give the words a place
to call home, paper
Give them ink