Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
PoetryFreakPoems
I'm writing the story of my life,   and I'm not letting anyone hold the pen.       The pen is mightier than the sword.     I'll write out all my pain, damage, fear.                 I'll shoot for the moon,      even if I miss I'll land among the stars.   They all told me that because of my past,      I could never become anything great,               that I'd never have success,                   never be good enough,    that what they did to me was my fault.                    I wanted to grow up.                           I finally did.                  I excaped their torture.             Now, I keep writing my story.              Write. Edit. Change. Repeat.         I'm not even completely grown up.                                  2 years.                  But it's happening now...          I've started toa ture into an adult.                      Frankly, I'm scared.            I'm not exactly sure what to do.       I'm taking over sooner than planned,               I'm working a real job now,       I'm responsible for sisters well being.                        I just don't know.                           But that's ok.         I have my faith and I have my pen. I don't want to miss out on the people who                 have me mesmerised... But how can I captivate them and weave                        them a story?        I don't know. I don't know if I can.       My rythem and rhyme is so unique,           there's no hope in attempting      to intertwine another beautiful soul.            I'm sorry. I just don't know.                       All I do know is       The pen is mightier than the sword.
0
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
The pen is mightier than the sword
I'm writing the story of my life,   and I'm not letting anyone hold the pen.       The pen is mightier than the sword.     I'll write out all my pain, damage, fear.                 I'll shoot for the moon,      even if I miss I'll land among the stars.   They all told me that because of my past,      I could never become anything great,               that I'd never have success,                   never be good enough,    that what they did to me was my fault.                    I wanted to grow up.                           I finally did.                  I excaped their torture.             Now, I keep writing my story.              Write. Edit. Change. Repeat.         I'm not even completely grown up.                                  2 years.                  But it's happening now...          I've started toa ture into an adult.                      Frankly, I'm scared.            I'm not exactly sure what to do.       I'm taking over sooner than planned,               I'm working a real job now,       I'm responsible for sisters well being.                        I just don't know.                           But that's ok.         I have my faith and I have my pen. I don't want to miss out on the people who                 have me mesmerised... But how can I captivate them and weave                        them a story?        I don't know. I don't know if I can.       My rythem and rhyme is so unique,           there's no hope in attempting      to intertwine another beautiful soul.            I'm sorry. I just don't know.                       All I do know is       The pen is mightier than the sword.
PoetryFreak
Written by
PoetryFreak
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem