The broken pen,
without words again.
Suffering in silence,
lost, without guidance.

The pen and my soul,
both lost our goal.
Held between the fingers of others,
and then tossed into deep waters.

The broken pen and I,
if we could, away we’d fly!
But broken we are,
salvation still so far.

The broken pen and I,
the world we will defy,
but hated for it we shall be.
No peace for the pen and me.

We are the same:
broken yet sane.
No one will heal us,
not realising what that does

The broken pen,
without words again
The broken me,
with no one to see.

© Copyright RosaliaJerika