The taste of cyanide

I write 
To keep that jewel of memory, the fresh set of pain, springing with life,
To keep an eye on my demons, for them to never find a place to hide,
It's but a necessity that I lift my pen, it's to cage the chaos of my mind.
& When I am writing those,
the pen glides gracefully across my paper as though whispering secrets
It took the demons, the chaos, the darkness, and questions out of my heart's chambers 
Unto the white parchment, where it'll remain safe and far from anyone's judgment, far from anyone's ears.