The Cruelty of My Pen
THE CRUELTY OF MY PEN
The mind can think one thing, but it is the pen that is in controlIt commands all of my words, and all the lines of my story told
I can fume and tut, and say that is so unjust, like my pen caresThen though it, merges into yet another story totally unawares
I know what is in my mind it truly has so far much more to sayYet what is written here is all that you're going to get for today
Mysteries that unravel, from the plumes of my cigarette smokeThoughts of intrigues, to the imagination of the reader provoke
Yet, the pyre of my burning cigarette, the pen chooses to chokeThus, holding back my imagination and feelings I need to evoke
If only this old computer could write down all that is in my mindMy poems would be astronomical, way to advanced for mankind
Indiana Shaw . . . : /
Copyright © Indiana Shaw | Year Posted 2022
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