Psychiatric Pen

The pen screams sounds,
that sets the mood.
The hand goes down,
and starts to move.
My mind begins to empty out,
what it feels my soul must shout.
The readers eyes begin to see,
the feelings held inside of me.
Doctors cost the pen is free,
and meets my psychiatric need...
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Goss Avatar
April 18, 2016 at 2:44 PM
Interesting poem here.
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace