You can either sit down and let someone you "love" treat you like ****. Or you can can stand up, demand better for yourself and walk away. The choice is yours.

Leave me alone with a pen and I can do many things like write a world of my own.

Alone with a pen.
Thoughts walking along the coffee hue paper; it's life consisting of nothing but words with wanting.
Words that want a change in th e world that speaks, with tongues all the same.
Words that have lines, dots, loops.
Different placements have never tore the unity of worlds apart.
Alone with in emptiness.
Impossible feet, made possible with those with belief.
Of those who speak with not tongues.
Of those who mark with not ink.
But are alone with the many, and complete with the few.
Those that are the ancestors of the ancient tongues, and the creators of the scribbled ink.
Alone within and empty...
Alone with a beginning...
Alone with a pen...

I am finished trying to draw water to satisfy my soul,
from holes that cannot quench my thirst.
I try to draw water from holes of different names.
From friends and family.
From the words and approval of men.
From temporal pleasures and materialism.
But they cannot quench the longing for Love
in my thirsty soul.
I am like the Woman at the Well.
Tired of going to holes that I think are wells.
Trying to draw water.
Walking away still thirsty.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Then...
My Saviour and the Lover of my soul
comes to me.
And I drink from Him.
My thirst is finally quenched,
and I will never be thirsty again.
For He is the Living Water.
He is not an empty hole which dries up,
sending me away still thirsty.
He is the Love which my parched soul needs.
He is...
the WELL.