Power of the Poet's Pen

Within my hand I hold, The power to prove the disproved, The power to build that which is destroyed, Within my heart I hold, The ability to elicit and deploy, An arsenal of understanding, Of the threats of our struggling society, This lifetime's corrupt priority to search for powers, Unknown through methods unspoken, Paying for drugs and alcohol instead of schools, That’s our token's use, --or in this case misuse, The truth is that our abuse of the future will lead us, Barreling past the downfalls of our past, And the dark power, That corrupted elixir that we hold is, All but absolved of every last drop of evil. Yet we sit still and drink every last drop. Fostering the weakness of a downtrodden youth, Encouraging that our discouragement of their dreams Is simply "telling the truth" Who am I, the poet, to let my pen, End up being considered mightier than the sword. Within my pen, I hold the creation of words, That can perpetuate the ideas and ideals of our fallen warriors. Within the pen, Resides their story, Within our hearts, We hold their dreams. But through our lives, their legacy lives on, The power within the poet’s pen is strong.