it’s a mark not like a cut
and not like a bruise
it’s a symbol of all the determination
and everything we have and will choose

thought you may pass it aside
it holds a large story
just listen to it
and you will be able to hear it’s worry

it hasn’t been used it quite awhile
it’s once decorated finger now bare
it sits on a chair melted in salt and beer
it’s as if you don’t care

It was used for resting a fresh led pencil
and the metallic smell of the pens ink
but now it just sits in a puddle of sorrow
waiting and waiting to think