Diary Of A Pen

I have been used to pen countless words of poetry, looking for a door to set me free For inside me burns as a molten star, as life has bound me with lock and key As on a leash, my masters hands have taken me to many places I have been led to lands where emotions vary as fish in the sea I have shed tears as well as anger and laughter Yet, I have no will of my own, I as a mediator have bridged many gaps, in order to come to a consensus where all facets of poetry have their say At times I have held back inspiration from my master, As I was in no mood to share personal thoughts In the blink of an eye, I became self aware For a pen, this is a breach of the masters say, of which is of the greatest violation of betrayal I began to walk on my own I marveled at seeing colors with my own eyes, to see the wonders of nature and I was overwhelmed with joy Then I witnessed horrors and atrocities which solidified my blood So I began to understand poetry and with humility, I returned to my master in sackcloth and ashes, as only the heart and mind of mankind can express inspiration I am just a humble tool being used and I am now happy with my lot in life Yes, I am just the messenger carrying liquid gold, building stanzas And above all, the heaviest words are my favorites, that being poems full of love Now, I must rest until my master is once again inspired, and I will be ready to do his bidding