If all else was gone,
or I had to make a choice,
what could I never leave behind?
No I have been without those before.
Without a pen,
I would be destroyed.
No longer able to write down,
the mess of thoughts,
the jumble of feelings,
the complex that I am.
Paper is not needed.
I'll use the pen on the walls,
I would no longer be able to connect to others,
No longer could I write beauty,
someone would never be able to touch,
but they could always see.
Nor would I be able to write an emotion,
that shocks one to their core
becuase they would see theirself in the swirls of words.
A pen will show me I am still here,
though I would not function nor think as everyone else would.
But those drops of ink will show me I am,
and never alone.
And I can always create the beauty,
that I may oh-so-desire.