deepundergroundpoetry.com

Pen Negotiations

Here I go again, hands clenched
Around my lucky writing utensil
The one that�s left ink stains on hands
And smeared itself on narrow lines
I believe no drop has gone to waste.

This pen has told stories
Of my childhood, bringing light to the things hidden and unseen
You might even say, this pen
Rescued me, from it repeating

Today, however, my pen speaks differently
Like a language newly learned
I must find some paper
A journal.. anything
What is the cause of this awakening?

An uprising of fear surrounds me
The people are hurting, what more can I do?
I must start writing.

This pen has seen the corruption of a fallen world
And the tears of those who inhabit it
I shielded myself from those things
Diligent self isolating
But my pen remains completely free
My mind and pen negotiating
Whether or not to free myself
As well

This pen has written
Heartbreak, and tragedy
Beautiful stanzas, and ugly poetry
But today, for a change
I�m proud to say

This pen is rewriting history.