Writing is my power.
This pen is my tool,
It helps me though tough times, when no one could.
It helps me vent, in ways people don’t get.
Instead of grabbing a knife, I grab a pen.
Helping me let go of my frustrations,
Taking away all sinful thoughts,
That burning hatred, anger and even lust.
Even when the tears keep pouring,
And my life seems… Obscure.
I know the only one I can count on, is you.
My dearly beloved, heavenly tool.
But deep down, I know it isn’t true…
I’ve got friends that keep me balanced.
They help me, uncover the lies.
Understanding my frustrations,
And helping me break through,
Through all the scorching lies,
The misplaced hearts,
The reopened scars.
And the blinding pain that is a broken heart.
But hearts break, not just for love… they break,
For lost, and broken trust.
But someday I’ll just give up, and instead of a pen I’ll use a gun.