#WritecoPoemchallenge

The Pen is in my hand,
My fingers are covered in blisters,
My page is empty.

Around me are crumbled shells of stories untold.
Stories that started but had no direction to go,
Stories that weren't perfect in my eyes,
Some that didn't quite put up the fight.

But I know now that no story is ever quite right.
Though my page is empty I have a story to share,
A story I know that to my heart and others' will be quite dear.
So now, though I may not be certain of what I may put on my page,
The Pen is in my hand and the torch burns on.

For one must write to rewrite and seek out the mistakes,
But never can one ever edit an empty page.
So the pen is in my hand and the torch burns on,
And in that moment of clarity I will find the calm in the storm.