Power of the Pen

Power of the Pen

 

This, my tome
A weathered, leather bound tale of my very own
In it…
An introduction without my recollection
my desire’s to tear those pages free from ever being sewn
My heartfelt memoir of someone who remains mostly unknown
With old chapters finished
Several left to be written, ink stained skin holding,
grasping a weeping quill from which I write with
Many pages left of days to delineate
Elated to saturate parchment with untold moments that’ll surely permeate my very existence
as I recreate
I’m who’s scribing them, editing and scribbling notes in margins
I, an unseen villain, heroine
A drama of my horror comedy
What was once child like handwriting evolved into calligraphy
I am the book binding spine to the pages of my unfolding story