My Pen
The pen is my friend
I bleed and he eases the pain
When the sieve is full
he pours it out-
Enough to fill
An empty space
or a spotless white parchment.
The rain comes to my mind
and he makes sense out of it.
Madness fills the air
But he makes symphony on
The cacophony of noises.
Now I swirl in pain
and hopelessness flung flayed
But with my pen, my dearest pen
There's peace.
And here I truly exist
as I would wish to exist
and more -
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