Pen to Steer

Something about watching ink bleed onto paper
To form words to show why I should hate her
The little drops roll out of the tip and grab a hold of the surface before it
Like they might fall away and die if they lose their grip
Tiny balls of colors that can create amazing things
Ink that once spread, can poison with a scorpion sting
Where is the power of a pen always been
For years the force has changed the responsibility that comes from within
The author just moves the pen to get his thoughts out
But the ink has no say what the words are about
Sometimes I wish I could take these words back
That somehow the ideas would crawl inside my head and go black
The uncertainty of these words show the mixed the state I’m in
And the journey that my thoughts have once been
Who knows where the babble goes from here
For that it’s up to the pen to steer

— Published August 16, 2003 —