The last stanza of this poem is one of my all-time favourites!
Photo by János Fehér
A Pen Right Through
In my heart they drove a pen,
An act of iteration
To reach a desired end.
Straight through, they struck my heart.
A fire did consume my mind,
Tearing my chest, a flaming dart.
The ink injected,
Coursed through my veins
Controlling and infected.
A damaged passion did ensue,
With a wounded heart,
And a pen right through.
Still the command did call,
And forced me to write,
The story of everything and all.
With pen strokes uncertain,
A wavering mind,
Closed a word-ridden curtain.
Pulling that pen from my chest,
I wrote with that weapon,
A story that will never rest.