A short poem about my writings and what it means to me to be able to convey myself. |
-Weary Pen- by Keaton Foster Weary Pen Have much left To be written Not said Words to lament Truths to examine The life in my chest The thoughts in my head All to be carefully expressed I give what I give With not a damn bit of regret This is me upon the page All that I could hope All that I have known The lessons I’ve learned The pain forcefully earned I leave nothing inside The poet in me Is the drive of my being Exhausting often settles in As I attempt to write All that there is my mind Copious amounts of space As deep as any space As full as the any sea As amazing as any livid dream I have much left to scream Silent words are my way The answer to my life Why I am alive In this here and now Someday I will die Someday I will find peace God will set me free But my words will remain Prisoners of ideas conveyed Others will turn the page Others will understand My feelings will always be Just as I placed them Upon the page Weary pen Dare not give me a break I am not ready for it Because quite truthfully I have only just begun… Weary Pen Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012. |