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 fiercely fought White
Leaving various shades of Grays

Whose hand will wield the pen?
Where will the page end?
What do you, the editor believe?
Tell me...
Whose writing OUR DESTINY?!