THE PEN 🖋️
Poetry of a Samurai
My heart is bleeding,
Day in, day out I hear it wail.
My heart is utterly wailing,
Each day, I fear I will fail.
I find no comfort in songs,
In my mirror a girl in thongs-
Even my reflection mocks
The very essence of my tongues.
I am tired of wailing,
It does me no good.
It leaves my head throbbing
But I'm unafraid of my pen, writing.
I am still bleeding, still tearful,
But the only one who can listen, careful;
She's my diary, in between her pages,
I am that woman so powerful.
My pen in hand makes me a samurai.
Unafraid of my pen, I will wield it
Till I die like a flashing sword
Against an army.
An army that seems to take me out,
An army that wants me to ridicule myself
But like a samurai, I will swing my pen
At their scrawny necks; I will have their heads.
With my pen, I am more than them,
I am a slayer of my demons,
A penmanship for which my reward
Is in the mind of those who read my words.
©Iyere Perpetual (December 7th, 2023)
