The typewriter
It sits there, screaming
You may think it is whispering

Tap, tap, tap.
But it is yelling

Each key shouting louder than the next.
The keys sit there.
Do you listen to them?

The typewriter
It screams.
It cries out the evils of our world in a shrieking proclamation
A frenzy of words.
It vomits words.

It sings

The sweet tune of passion
Each key a different note,
A bombastic song of words.

It sighs wistfully over ponderous thoughts
Dreaming.

It paints a picture,

A mosaic of words
Each key a colour,
A rainbow drifting through the imagination
Traipsing colour everywhere.
Colour and words.

The typewriter

Talks to me
Each key a different conversation
A different voice
All shouting at once
Fighting for attention,

For their stories to be heard

The typewriter
Screams.