Playing God



Sometimes a writer decides
To reach inside your chest
And try to pull out your heart
Stop it, dammit! It ain’t a spare part

Emotions stirred, shaken, blasted
I think of everything I invested
In the writer’s tale and characters
One play God with mere letters

The sole act of writing
Such an obscenely powerful thing
Writers simply handed blank cheques
Readers reduced to quivering wrecks

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