In the presence of lines displayed, displaced.

It was all about
the notes and scribbles;
the birth of a verse,
the signature of a writer
where thoughts are scrawled
across wastes of paper.
Yes! The freedom to roam
on the scarcity of
punctuation and
grammar controls.
Yes! It was a
Devil’s playground
to dissect the lines
that contained the words
that once had meaning
only to be reassembled
into some pool of
metaphorical wasteland
hoping the puzzle piece
you’ve selected
will fit on discovery
ending the misery.
Yes! The word is out
on the streets of verse
where the road of redemption
on a collection of words
fades, disappearing from view.
Who has the word?
Who has the line
that fits the verse?
And to whom
will print it?
A word of verse
stripped naked
for all to see,
a word of meaning
in disrepute!
Yes! Not I says me.