This poem is a found poem derived from an anotation on a source that I personally wrote. I edited and altered the puntuation and capatilisation, as well as the order, but i did not add or change any words. 

This poem is about writing, the act of creation. Is the writer not a god of sorts? A demiurge who crafts his own sort of immaterial plane. The plane of fiction. We are instructed and often find that our ideas can be expressed through old forms and samples. In this case, the poem that emerged came from a prosaic composition and became, from something decidedly boring, something poetic, new, and formed. It is for Me, it is Mine, it is created.