The Pen That Magicked Poems Onto Paper

The Pen That Magicked Poems Onto Paper

It sleeps inside a cracked case

waiting for breath to return

ink thick as forgotten vows

coiled beneath its sharpened tip

When fingers close around its form

the world grows quieter still

thoughts begin to fracture open

spilling light into shadowed space

It writes without permission

etching truths that hurt to hold

each word a quiet uprising

against silence that once ruled

Paper trembles under pressure

as meaning learns how to rise

lines form like whispered confessions

carved deep into waiting page

The ink remembers everything

even what minds try to bury

names lost in fading echoes

return in sudden, sharp relief

It does not ask for mercy

nor soften what it reveals

each sentence arrives like thunder

breaking through guarded breath

Even grief becomes language

translated into living marks

turning sorrow into structure

that refuses to disappear

When the writing finally slows

the room feels emptied of sound

only ink still carries weight

like a heartbeat refusing sleep

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