A Pen and a Journal

I'm gonna have to pinch myself.

Force the scrawls from my hands.

I tend to write a book instead of a memoir,

instead of a look into my head.

I have to keep a sharp one.

Hidden beneath my bed,

with leather binding and

streaking black ink.

Gonna have to make me hurt again.

This time I'm going to play honest.

Until it's easy to lose.

Until I learn this rosy brown girl

is a little too young...

to be singing the blues.

Comments

MVP-Most Valuable Poet

well said

like the flow of the poem

expresses a powerful voice

keep writing

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741