At this point, I’m not sure what to write about anymore. I’ve been battered, shattered, scattered… Life has been rough, tough, cruel with no fuel to carry me on.
My dreams, my passion, my zeal all lost to the the hands of inconsistency but this non-chalancy isn’t derived from the lack of will, not from the lack of inspiration, cause every experience comes with a dozen paragraphs package painted with pain prescribed to every word printed out, to every drop of ink flowing out from the pen that never runs dry….. Or so I said…..
This pen harbours stories wanting to be told so badly but lacks an initiating point, a prologue to sentences crafted from sincerity. So it stays pregnant with thousands of untold stories until it can’t contain no more, so i start from nowhere, hoping to get to somewhere, hoping to be heard, hoping you would decipher…..
pen power 