The scratchy melody of pen over paper,
The whispered love song of pages turning,
My words, my soul, gone. For what reason?!
Tell me! Tell me! Why have you left!?
“Words, please tell me, what did I do to deserve this?”
“My dear poet, you gave up. You took us for granted.”
“But I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know!”
“IGNORANCE IS NOT AN EXCUSE!”
“Then strike me down from where I stand. For I am nothing without you.”
I can’t explain, can barely comprehend.
These thoughts, emotions, without a pen in my hand.
Rolling, turning, spinning in my mind.
What’s that? Who’s there!? FUCKING SHIT! I’m blind!
“Appreciate all of your gifts, poet, or more will be taken away.”
“Words? Is that you? Why did you take my eyes?!”
“To teach you a lesson. That nothing is guaranteed.
Your sight will return, when you truly learn to see.”
See? See what? What is there to see?
The ugliness of this world, the endless monstrosities? ..No.
The beauty. The love. The few kindnesses displayed.
A look below the surface, to the innocence in the shades.
“Do you see now, my lovely poet?”
“I see! I see! Only you can describe them adequately.”
“Now will you take us for granted? Will you use us, and throw us away?”
“Never again! Oh no! I’ve learned my lesson, that’s for sure!”
These words, they fill me. Build me. ARE me.
This pen, an extension, of my soul within.
So now, I take my leave, to reacquaint myself with this dance.
Thank you, my words, for giving me another chance.
