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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1200079
I've always wished to write with a feather plumed pen and dip the nib in an ink-well.
Give them to me, those that wish to harm,
let me show them the wreck they've left,
reveal the turmoil, for they've captured my calm,
let me accuse them of their grievous theft
of me. Where am I? Swept away, and tossed
alone and floundering without direction.
Is it only me that's paying this awful cost,
falling so far short of my aim for perfection?

Give them to me, destroyers of my being,
let me give them something they can see,
something that educates and sends them fleeing
from their vile path, something to set them free.
Enable all that they've brought down to survive.
Give me a pen that flows, provides relief,
bullies overcome, conscience truth can revive,
words can win hearts and minds is my belief.
© Copyright 2007 Ann Ticipation (annticipation at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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