I rest my hand on your heart,
feeling the ache of a wayward soul
trapped in blood and bone,
a girl made into flesh and gold,
yet you still hold your pen
like a torch
against the ways of old,
knowing you can wake
the wilting world
with just the beginnings
of a poem, verse, word—
after all,
"the pen is mightier than the sword"
this is just a poem I thought of at school when I was supposed to be paying attention in class. I was trying to write it down but then a teacher looked over my shoulder and saw I was writing words instead of numbers haha. anyway, I just want to say I've been waiting all day to write this (IN THE PRIVACY OF MY OWN ROOM)!!
love,
mari