A Reflection on a Pen
Why am I more valuable when gone?
Why are my words devalued when they’re proving you wrong?
I’m the calamitous aftermath of you deciding to take a chance on me, after all
And when I’ve said it, and I’m done…
Please, insult me by asking for more chances than the only one you needed
Scream your pleadings past these tears of yours I’m drinking
Upon your wailing agony, I do enjoy feasting
When you realize, through your fingers, I’m slipping
Like the grains of sand held in your hand, I’m escaping
How you grip tighter, pushing me farther away, daily
Painful it must be to see my value only when away from you, I’m walking
You…
Denigrated to immortality by my poetry pieces
It’s a shame you’re nothing more than impressions I’m stringing together
What a joy it’s been severing the artery that had us connected
You’re not even a real person, but a collage of everything that’s happened
A ghost town village of memories I’m supplanting
Have you seen my saline hitting pavement?
Well…
It’s simply a misplaced statement on a face that’s complacent
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