I hide behind my ink
Burying the tattooed scars
Letting no one have a glance
The wounds are fresh like moist soil.
I try not to cry
For gallons of tears will pour
Like an overloaded river
Breaking it’s embarkment.
My pen speak my silence
Unmasking my fake face
Roaring like a lion in the jungle
Showing the bitten wounds.
Powerful my pen is
Romancing and cuddling hearts
When mine is oozing blood
Endlessly stopping it won’t.
Late nights I stay
Staring at my blank ceiling
Awaiting for manna like hope
In vain I wake up with nothing.
I make many laugh
Like mad men they giggle
I carry their pain in my pen
My heart and soul remain disturbed.
Smile hugs my face tight
Deep I’m drowning in a pool
Voices of drums knock in my head
Walks, runs, crawls trample my soul.
https://wandasinkpen.wordpress.com/2022/01/25/the-pain-of-a-poet/
® Kennedy Ochieng
Country Kenya 🇰🇪
"Poetry, Language Of the Soul" {P.L.O.T.S.} - The Creatives Magazine 