INK

INK DRIPS FROM MY PEN LIKE TEARS, MY PEN HOLDS MY POWER AS WELL AS MY FEARS, MY PEN WRITES OF LOVE AND FAILED ATTEMPTS.. YET I FEEL A DISCONNECT, MY PEN CARRIES A SADNESS I DO NOT.. I'VE TAKEN MY PEN THROUGH A SERIES OF EMOTIONS.. I've healed but my pen drips INK FILLED TEARS.. Pounds of pain punctured my progress.Tons of trouble terminated my tranquility.. Swarms of stress subtracted my substance.. My heart exploded like a thousand thunders. My mind melted and my spirit splintered...MY PEN..Hanging by a thread destined to burst..
I tried to wash away the spilled ink with words, But the stains were deeply dyed in concrete colors..Verbal detergents were badly and sadly defeated verbosity crumbled, fell at my feet and retreated Internal torment was the architect of my demise terrorizing my thoughts and hijacking my hope... I once traded my POETRY FOR SONG WRITING..
Music tried to massage me out of my misery.. But though the words were so wonderful and the melody so moving and majestic misfortune only mushroomed and multiplied..
I sought solution in the fraternity of friends But their fantastic fellowship fell flat on its face as the vanity of my vicissitudes vented and vomited causing emotional dehydration and mental suffocation.. I EAGERLY RAN BACK TO MY PEN..