What I hide

Free Verse

Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

I picked my pen,
And Went on to jot
Verses that told
The grace of Mother nature,
Serene lakes and elegant flowers,
Of trees that conveyed messages
Of roots and standing tall

Never have I let
My pen to tell
The stories that rattled,
My mind the deepest
Pain — hidden always,
Shared never,
Ignored mostly.

Today though,
The buzzings are refusing,
To quiet down
And get to work
I fear, my pen might spill
The pain its aiding and abetting.
I fear, my pen might come clean
And expose the scars hidden.

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