When children write
They write
Trusting nothing but pencils
And a sparse chest of words
They scribble a path
To a new worlds
Plunging head first
Into the uncertainty of play

When children write
Words play with pages
Betraying the nubile innocence
Of Their inky stains
They boom loud sounds
To dumb letters
They twist their imaginations
By the knob of their mistakes

When adults write
Words fight
With the hot-seated dogmas
And coloured perceptions
With ghosts that lurk
In the tunnels of thought
Just to squat
On the lines of pages

Their wary expressions
Distrust their fingers
Their fear (of failing)
Is hostile to their pens
Constantly they are haunted
By the conscience of their words
Because the world would judge them
Through a jury of 26 letters