my pen itches to write down the words <br />but my mouth is empty <br />so i sit here quietly <br />and my hand moves silently <br />as the dim light shines on the paper <br />a moth floating in the forever. <br />i think of my life <br />and of the pain i feel <br />i move my pen across <br />just as a thought <br />strolls onto the page <br />and makes way <br />down the blue lines <br />the ink drying <br />as i write <br />this dying <br />inside, <br />while you and i <br />stay on this paper <br />writing onto the ends of forever. <br />oh, pen where have our thoughts strayed? <br />what have i been saying? <br />my diary poured out <br />my words scream and shout <br />but as we both know, <br />nobody sees them but us, <br />and what do you know, pen <br /> i wrote a story <br />alas it is then <br />because the lights must go out <br />do not fret about <br />i will pick you up again <br />so nobody will read this writing of a pen <br />betray my confidence <br />of my thoughts and this <br />we shall see <br />what my pen does write next, <br />perhaps.<br /><br />Erika Michelle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-pen-writes/
