This Pen Bleeds

Gruesome days,
Tireless nights.

Walking through thorns,

Swimming through storms.

My emotions spring to life on paper.

My inner being gives the essence.

Sometimes the sun brings no inspiration;

For It sends rays of distraction.

Sometimes the moon shines with no motivation;

Leaving me in the mud to embrace my ruins.

But I grew above those limitations,

Showing I needed not the sun

Nor the moon

My mind was always the cue.

Dangerously decorated like the Pandora’s box;

My mind was a Haven to behold.

I never went to battle with guns or bombs.

Instead I used my quill as i willed.

With the blood of my foes I inked,

Dispersing verdicts atop my hill.

“So what happens when there are no enemies to kill?”

“When there is no blood to spill?”

My quill I shall drop.

 In reverence i would pick my Pen,

Brandishing it like a sword,

I would Tear down strongholds of ignorance

And mockers shall meet their demise.

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