The Big Bad War

The Pen doesn’t care; is unaware

Of the situation dire.

Ignorant, it awaits its turn

To get chosen for some action.

But the Mind holds back in fear

Afraid to lay it all bare

They go on a bad, bad war.

Pen waits to inscribe the thoughts,

To fill the pages with its flow.

But the Mind...

It has it’s reasons hundred

To not give in, and to give it a go.

The Mind holds a lot of memories

And has its own vagaries.

Pen and Mind

A long distance relationship they share.

When the thoughts meet the tip, they rejoice.

When they part...they agonize each.

The Pen awaits for a chance; helplessly

Oblivious, of the Mind’s complexity.

While the Mind is messed up in its own burn

The Pen eagerly waits for its turn.

The skeptical Mind keep the words confined

Refuses to let go of the thoughts unrefined.

The Soul suggests to let go

Of the thoughts,

In parts; a bit at a time

As short sweet nothings.

Lay the emotions on a paper

Let the problems drop dead

On white cold sheets

And watch them fade; smudge.

Witness the birth of some new

From the ashes of those dead

Or, some in a new shade.