How challenging it is, to give something meaning,
The collective dream of various writers fall to shards,
Distorted by the reflections of an authors' battered psyches.
In the end it's simply empty words ricocheting throughout disjointed contemplations,
Incomplete ideas seeping from pens of things never to be said.
They form in the shapes of hollow words filling the lines on a page,
Any meant emotion has been extracted and given a new meaning,
A new purpose;
One with no set course and a million interpretations.
The sorrow some hold, taken as joy to others,
Paralyzing fears of those with the pen are a secret pleasure of those with eyes,
Silent pleas for help go unnoticed by those unskilled in the written word,
How challenging it is, to channel a soul through ink.