She Said.(Poem)

 
SHE SAID 
 
   I'm the writer, she said, in your head, 
   And I thought. And I said, well, what sort, 
   What sort of books do you write, then? 
   She said, I write books of the words that I took 
   From your head. 
 
   And I said, is that right? Is it stories you write? 
   And she said, no; not quite. 
   It's the stories that haven't been thought of I write. 
   And I said, is that right? 
 
   And I thought that I understood, sort of. I thought 
   That I ought, so I said that I did, as you do. 
   So I said to her straight, what you're telling me now, 
   Is it true? Is it true? 
 
   Then she said, do you see, all words in your head 
   Are like birds in a cage till I set them all free? 
   And ...