A song unsung,

Story half-told,

Music notes drawn on pages

for sale but never sold.

Tried not to care but the tears won’t lie;

They dissolve my mask and expose what I hide.

I am a pen full of ink with an enduring hope,

A determined climber on a shredding rope.

My mouth parts expelling a soulful song,

But it hangs in my throat and comes out wrong.

Still, I strive, giving it all I got;

A failure I might be, but quitter I am not.

© D.L. Lunsford