Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2023
All I did was write, until the pen accepted me.
Until the pain escaped from me, or became a part of me.
All I did was dive into the ocean of ink,
Where emotions sail, and dreams interlink.

All I did was write until the labyrinth made sense,
Until I imploded within and was no longer tense.
Until I figured out where every letter would go,
Shooting for the stars, this has always been my bow.

All I did was scribble down as I was always told.
They said between my ******* is a worth more than gold.
All I did was believe in the power of my mind,
That the words I share can touch and bind.

All I did was create, like an artist's hand,
Giving life to my musings, a world to understand,
All I did was illuminate with the written word,
Attempting to bring warmth to the hearts of those unheard.

I was shattered, these words kept me whole,
All I did was let my pen trace the map of my soul.
Ignatius Hosiana
Written by
Ignatius Hosiana  30/M/Kampala-Uganda
(30/M/Kampala-Uganda)   
472
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems