The ink flows out of the pen from my heart.
Onto the page it writes my deepest thought.
The words bring healing to each broken part,
Breathe life to the emotions I've let rot.

Where would I be without this pen in hand,
Without this language to voice my wishes?
It is only through writing that I stand;
Internal fires it extinguishes.

Maybe the fault in this generation
Is that we struggle to see past the lines.
The reason behind the separation
Is our failure to search for hidden signs.

Maybe one day this drifting world will see
Writing speaks more than a full symphony.

✒