A pen as an antidote
Our mom was never there for us
Her body was but not her mind.
Kicked out of home, left without love,
But with my dad I was thought of.
With pen, my heart no longer blind.
With rhyme I'm free, I must profess.
And ink was spilled in perfect place.
Heart of immense darkness now grace.
👁 1💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.