Think Ink
Again and again the harassment of my pen, the words bleed as the ink spills out.
My brain is a blur and my thoughts are in doubt.
Where will I go when I finally fall?
How hard will I hit when I lose it all ?
How many times do I dust myself off?
How easy is it to find yourself when you are lost?
Will the signs be clear or do I have to figure out where each piece fits?
I put things together to the way that I like to see it.
I take a step back and the picture is obscured.
Lost misunderstood and not really clear.
My path is bright but I am filled with fear.
My insides want it, my desire is strong, my hands have been holding things that are wrong.
Now, I can only grab what is next to me, to escape the pain.
I’m holding onto things, although I know it is in vain.
My friend here is the only one that understands, this pen to paper takes me to another land.
I scribble, I scratch and again and again, it’s the same emotions flowing from the tip of my pen.
Copyright © Lisanne Hassen | Year Posted 2016
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