My Own Truths

The Pen

You have 

recorded so many memories,

many of which are forgotten, lost in the past.

You have 

recorded so many feelings,

many of which are buried inside me.

You have 

recorded so much knowledge,

much of which have never stayed long.

You have 

done too much for me;

worked too much for me,

and now I cannot leave you;

no matter how little I have remembered.

You have

kept going, for that is your job;

for you are what will remain,

and now you are gone;

I have nothing left.

The memories of my past,

the feelings from my hear,

the knowledge of what was, 

nothing has remained, 

for you, my pen, has left me 

to the abyss, 

to the torment, 

at which I am stuck.

Who will save me now.