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Rated: E · Poetry · Adult · #1891510
A short poem about my writings and what it means to me to be able to convey myself.

-Weary Pen-
by
Keaton Foster

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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.

© Copyright 2012 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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