The Writer by Chance Walsh

guy typewriter
Photo courtesy of Cassoday Harder

Words flee from honest fingers

Letters left far 

After the meaning is lost

Trapped thoughts

Set free

Freedom to speak your mind

A key to the sentence your 

Afraid to say

Don’t say it then

Write it.

I write because that’s

My one weapon

I’m wayward in my words

My hope is in my hands

My chance is in written whispers

On the winds of wonder.

A tangled, barely-tangible truth

A seed in a single sentence

To sprout potential sanity

It makes me sane

To wield words wrought in

Ink and flame

Forever fighting

The festering fever

That is fear

Fear of the unknown

Fear of the unseen

Fear of a world that doubts

A dream

Take that light

And spill it onto paper

Put aside your pride

And piece together peace

Preach that you will erase

Words pre-written 

On pages pre-printed

Rewrite fear, doubt, hate

And pencil in

Love, hope, freedom

We are the creators

Crafting connections

Through the power of 


We are writers

Wrong or not

We will use our words

As our will

Writing and rewriting

The things to come.





Chance Walsh is an eighteen-year-old autodidact.  He has been writing since he could read and recently finished his first novel, The Dream Descent, which he co-authored with his mother.  He enjoys acting and has done a lot of theater. He’s also written screenplays and produced short films. His true passion is writing, and he wants nothing more than to be an author. He spends, arguably, too much time writing poetry and listening to music.


Cassoday Harder is a twenty-year-old photographer inspired by youth, femininity, and summer. View more of her work on Flickr or visit her website.

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