Blank Paper Calls to me

Blank paper calls to me
It cries out loudly "come fill me!"
And so against my will,
I lift my quill and let the ink flow
Wondering where my words will go.
Will they inspire someone to live?
Or will the convince someone to give
A little time to their neglected kid?
Will my words give the kid a chance
to be held and loved, not dismissed by cold glance?
But if words could do this,
Would not the whole world be writing
Things they hoped might be inspiring?
And if we all wrote all day
Would words still be special in that way,
Or would they become common place,
And writers with important messages die in disgrace?
I dont beleive that will be the case,
A frightening extreme i dont like to contemplate.
But possibilities is what we explore,
And the world always wants to hear more.
Then slowly i staunch the flow
And see where my words did go
Sometimes i'm proud,
Usually, i hope its never read out loud.
But occasionally theres a gem,
That peeks out of the mayhem,
And makes writing worthwhile.