I let my pen speak.

I let my pen slide seamlessly over the paper.

I love listening to it.

It narrates tales about life,

Poetries of broken hearts

And stories I haven't heard before.

Maybe life inspires it to write.

So, I listen.

Carefully.

I see my pen delving into the reality

And making me speechless

While painting its subtlety.

It borrows my imagination and some truths

And makes a beautiful art

Depicting human soul

and nature's heart.

It does bring my imagination into life.

And I must say,

This little buddy appreciates me better

Because humans nowadays just sound cliché.

And since I don't know any better

I let my pen speak.

To learn the art of subtlety

And to understand the meaning of eternity.

But yet I wish

If only I could talk to it

The way it talks to me.