Equipped with just a pen, a paper and hopes; I write.
The pen dances with thoughts of things from the night.
Expressing the soul of the shadows and it's hellish fright.
Words escape it's tip; defining the glory of the moon light
Bleeding, the pens blots the wonders of the gorgeous day.
Depicting the golden sun, it's kisses given away by it's warm rays.
Harmonizing with the faint echo's of the brush where animals play.
Capturing it's essence, attempting to scribble what it has to say.
The paper slowly fills, words decorating it's once blank face.
Creative thoughts pour out, a waterfall crashing onto one place.
Carving out the path to a world hidden by time and it's pace.
Expressing emotions, ambitions, and tribulations; every trace.
But no matter how I hope, wish, struggle and aggressively shove,
The paper will fill, the pen will fail; expiring even the faintest of octaves.
Leaving glimpses of beauty, tragedy, and a piece for the puzzle of love.
And as my pen runs dry it brings forth the end, giving life to my fear of....