my little book of poems

A Pen Without Ink

When I write

I only write to say something

Whether a 'hello' or 'goodbye'

'Good morning' or 'goodnight'

But I can't write with a broken pen

Though the scissors continue to cut deep

And the erasers still erase all hopes and dreams

The pen keeps the light up and darkness down

But how can you do that when the pen broken?

How can you speak when your throat is cut?

How can you run away when your feet refuse to move?

And how can you write what you need to say when your pen is broken?