Pen. 

​I hear you calling from the deep

Nudging me to give you a chance

And I’m conflicted, 

What if I let this chance for there to be an us pass us by?

You’ll be incomplete- you say to me

Human beings were made to be creators- you continue

And I look at the past, at the things i’ve tried my hand on

And I see vanity plastered all over

I see struggle, too much work, too little euphoric outcomes

But I hear you call, and I hate noise in my head

So I pick up the pen, and release you.