The Power of an Expert Blogger.

My paper is glistening white and my ink has dried to powder, The voices inside my head are mocking and the clock is ticking louder, The closing of my eyes leads to the mangled faces of haunting ghouls, Reminding me and chiding that on this wretched earth we are all fools, Narrowing escaping the firing arrows the dodgy leaders shoot, Each shot echoing of history when someone different got the nasty boot. However now my pen it tells me in softly whispered words, You are a writer, a blogger true and you can deliver tales, Of lands over worn hills, smoking cities and wretched vales, You need no wardrobe to reach Narnia, you need no looking glass, You need no wand or fireplace, don’t be silly, nothing so crass. You surely can meet deadly demons and hidden faeries alike, To win their precious favour, or suffer their poisonous smite, You can ride dragons, or the pooka, into misty lands untouched, And open your eyes to lament in word’s, to which you’ve clutched, To keep your sanity. Great bloggers, when your eyes open your sword becomes pen, And while your sacred pen is still writing, Blind them with these stories, and the silver lining, Deafen them with their constant whining, And point out that though the leaders are still refining corruption, To its finest, Point; When you close your eyes you can still be free.  (P.S Bloggers do not actually speak to their pens. We're not teleporters either)