The PenA Poem by JoshyJoshSomethign i just noticied
The Heart shattered into pieces.
I made those peices into a fine pen. I wrote with spilt blood as my ink. I created works of literature that were thought provoking and beautiful. Praised by strangers, it was as if I had stepped into another world. A world of thoughts and flow mixing together to make my art. I saw myself as a beginner, a novice, a fool. These strangers said I was no amateur. How could I believe them? I had only just begun. The months passed and my pen stopped, my art ceased to continue. However, what was already made will be forever. Now I find myself with pen in hand again. I want to make the words again. I want to see that praise! Why won't the hand move? Why won't the pen write? Why am I only reminded of pain? No....no....NO! I will not surrender to this pain even if it means I must force the pen to write. The art may be crude but I will refine it. I will remake the pen. Yes, The Pen is the secret.
© 2010 JoshyJoshAuthor's Note
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5 Reviews Added on March 8, 2010 Last Updated on March 8, 2010 |

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