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My Pen
I found the pen while in my bed.
So many words were invading my head.
Where were they coming from, these words I heard?
They came so fast that they all were blurred.
I placed the pen upon the page
and the words escaped my heady cage.
How long had they been captive in my brain?
As I started to write it released my pain.
And so it became my way to heal,
easing the sorrow that I did feel.
Consumed with sadness, confused from loss
I now had a way to finally cross
Into a valley of sanity again
and bring my anguish to an end.
And so my pen is treasured every day.
It allows me peace as I make my way.
poem
by
Edwina Reizer
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