I never meant to hurt you
when the ink flowed from my pen.
Never meant to scar your heart
with the thoughts trapped inside my head.
I never thought it mattered
or would affect the ones who cared.
I just needed a way to sort it
this burden not meant to be shared.
You used to find in this ink such pride
in the words that from me flowed.
Reading all the things I wrote
it was a pride I had never before known.
Now when my pen takes up again
and the ink begins to write.
I'm careful and I'm weary
of the pain that it brings to life.
Unsure of how to sort my mind
from the truth and from my fear.
Will I forever scar this man
with the ink that flows so clear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.