As the emotions spiral
And the energy blooms-
I itch to write

Scrambling for a pen
Writing on some scraps-
I itch to let it out

The urgency intensifies
As the ink drips out
In whatever forms I wish-
I itch to be heard

Angular letters and scrambled scribbles
Each word has an imaginary color
They land on the paper with impact-
I itch to express it all

And then the race is almost gone
I ponder the bending of endings
Breathing has slowed
Relief of release

Although my itch has ceased
It has transferred to my lovely piece
My writing has an itch of its own-
"I itch to be read"