Pen and Paper

By , Bethesda, MD
It is not mine, this language and it leaves me with nothing but my own.
My own pen and paper,
The tools of revolutionaries.
Pen to the paper, sword drawn , I leap to dance and sing on this paper.
But no revolution is my own, I have no cause.
I am a wanderer, lost, but where else better to go than my pen and paper?

Pen and paper it is a fork in the road,
The one revolutionaries take leads to being found,
The wanderers take the one that loops back to the fork.
Lost and forever lost, until we have a cause to be found.





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