Hello my pen,
My long lost friend.
I put you in your cup months ago,
or was it years?
You’re all I have now.
These hands have toiled.
This heart was broken.
These eyes have cried.
But still, my pen has ink.
The hand that toiled
Now wants that toil on the page,
The heart that was broken
is bandaged, but it has not yet healed.
And the eyes that have cried
are now dry, and want to look away.
But they can’t.
But still, my pen has ink.
Now as we all are caged,
as we are stomped on the neck
by the boot of law and failing leaders,
as we are at the mercy of selfish monsters and fools
both red and blue in hue,
I come back to you my old friend.
Thank god my pen still has
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