A White page is formed
Symmetrical yet imbalanced
It awaits a surreal stroke
And a hands scribbled justice
Blackness escapes the abyss
Tainting a once blank purity
Literary crusades induce armies
Dividing lines to dispute truth
Wars tear at the worn page
Stanzas of souls lost in conflict
While the ink bleeds relentlessly
Converting words to Crimson seas
Books warrant disarmament
Writer's in widespread disgrace
As Black fiercly faught White
Leaving various shades of Greys
Whos hand will wield the pen?
Where will the page end?
What do you, the editor believe?
Tell me...
Whos writing OUR DESTINY?!