Spirit of the Soul

What the hell can I do with a pen other than stab myself with emotion would someone feel the pain understand the constant agony would they hear the tone of emptiness or the longing in my heart to be held thine ink has run its race no ribbons for the losers refills become another journey to that backward path so hollow indian ink shall one day become extinct and the ashes will reach far and wide but where will they land upon which soul will they touch whom will share the pain caress the inner demons and be thankful to know they were never alone......