• Ah, how he wields his weapon
    So gracefully yet strong; full of pride
    Ink drips from the tip like blood
    The paper, his battle field


    His mind races and swirls
    His thoughts pour from his wrist with a flick
    Oh, how he eyes his creation


    No one deserves to read such a thing
    He smiles at his last and greatest piece of art
    The words devour his mind
    How shall he end it all?


    With a lick of his lips he plays God
    “You all die!” He screams with a maniac’s laugh
    Yet his creations just stare at him
    A mocking smile dancing on their lips


    How dare his creations defy him so mockingly!
    He is the Omega!
    A twisted smile forms on his face
    No matter…
    He will just have to teach them a lesson


    In his mind he watches them die
    Falling to the floor like flies
    Blood splattering everywhere


    The sound of a door closing snaps him out of his killing spree
    Slammed back into reality of a small room
    Four white walls made of pillows
    The jacket that hugs you


    The Lunatic Writer, they call him
    Driven crazy by his own words
    But if you truly think about it
    Aren’t all writers lunatics?