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My Pen

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The word's drip easily...
Drawn bleedingly from my slender pen...
Etching pain and sorrow again ... and again  ....
No word's can describe what I feel ....

Like majic they appear on the  satin like page...
Bold like letter's and  ....  deep within a rage .......
Rage at what once was ...  and will be again ...
They are drawn out from my bleeding pen ..

A rage I feel inside  ...  no ...  less ...
Than a savage knife twisting and turning inside ..
What can this lonely man ......do to escape ...
This torturous feeling ....   of a lost serenade   ....

The serenade where I once played the fool ...
Of a man without ....   his precious tool's ....
How can I as a mortal man weeping .....
Admit defeat in my inner most  being .


Written by Terrance Martin
June 3rd / 2017

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