Alone with a Spear of Ink

On a crash flight to an open ocean,
Survived only one awoken by the commotion.
Only a pen and journal survive,
Making all she needs to thrive.
She found herself to be,
Emotionally free.
There is so much to rhyme,
On an island alone with tons of time.
Words will fill the trees,
and papers will fly lost in the breeze.
A journal full of tales,
Is the survivor tool better than nails.
To keep herself sane,
She knows that this death would not be in vain.
Alone, no not alone,
A gift pleasant to keep for her own.
Infinite ink to write a story,
Of a girl who found words as glory.
She uses the pen to spear for food,
And with a caught meal can pick between boiling, frying or stewed.
The beautiful remedies of the writing ink pool
It is the answer, the problem and the tool.


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