This Pen In My Hand

Just a poem

This pen in my hand,
Is the passageway to my soul,
I write without end,

As the days grow cold,
I'm writing this for myself,
Because nobody would consider reading it,
Even if it were for someone else,

This hand that holds this pen,
Yearns for a blade,
I will punish myself for the sin,
That you think I made,
I never new the sin of love,
Until you put me down,
I tried to rise above,
I tried to stand my ground,

Drowning in tears,
I'm locked within myself,
Nothing but fears,

Are you proud of yourself?

Reviews

[Amrita]

I am so impressed the way you display your feelings in your poem. Such an original piece it is..
Keep writing..
All the best :)

[BJ Nottingham]

Thank you so much! Means a lot to me :)