Shadows on The Page
In the quiet, darkened room, she sat,
a writer’s soul, worn down and flat.
Her fingers, weary from endless type,
heart heavy with words she could no longer write.
She sought a story, a glimpse of grace,
but saw instead a cruel, cold face.
A heart hardened by greed and pride,
In the human soul where light had died.
Their laughter sharp, like a knife’s cruel edge, cut through her spirit, a silent pledge. To break the chains of human woe, to turn her pain into words that flow.
With each cruel act her pen did bleed,
an outcry for the world to heed. The darkness in man she’d strive to mend,
through lines of truth her heart would send.
And so she wrote, through tears and pain, pouring her soul like the falling rain. For in her words, she found the fight, to heal the world with ink and light.
Thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read this humble piece. I eagerly anticipate your return. Until next time, take care, and see you.
