WRITE OUT
BY: JNLL
A pencil lost in nowhere ,
To write something still struggling,
Every scribble were uncertain,
'Til it got tired and erased everything.
A piece of blank paper,
Waiting to be draw on,
The pencil attempted to,
But gave up later on.
How ironic that pencil were made,
To gave a second chance for the mistakes,
But sadly the paper's crumbled,
The words to be written were vague.
Suddenly a fountain pen appeared,
Unspoken words has been written,
Directed to the blank crumbled paper,
The ink's so dark it imprinted so permanent.
It took so long for the pencil to write,
Too long that a pen took it's spot,
The old empty space full of white,
We're now filled with continuous dots.
The little pencil,
Broken and pointless,
Like an ancient quill,
Forgotten by the progress.
The paper felt so complete,
It's purpose has been fulfilled,
The fountain pen made it happened,
Saved the paper from the darkest pit.
~04/14/22~
YOU ARE READING
Inner Thoughts
Poetry- also known as " Words in Mind" "Neither said or heard It's always been hidden Buried deep within Lying on the tip of the pen."
