Insane Pen

Isn't my pen insane?

It never smiles at me.

Looking at its belonging,

Harkening for a pay.

I received nothing in life,

not as a gift but wages.

Is it fair?

I've lived with the pen.

I've loved the pen.

I've trusted the pen.

I've not hurt the pen.

I've been faithful to the pen.

It never smiles 'why?

In my lifetime,

I've made mistakes, not with the pen.

But through the pen.

All its bleeding wasn't achieved.

Is it fair?

My pen clouds the sky.

It rains 'change', as water,

Evaporated 'constant' as a vapor

Bribery and corruption,

Injustice and insecurities

Starvation and diseases

All remaining place.

Is it fair?

I've written to the sun

To unveil the truth.

I've written to the sands

To reject grave requests

I've written to the forest 

To seize being ta errorist comfort zone.

I've written to the water deities 

To seize over flooding.

Isn't it okay?

I've written.

Yet, no reply

I'm writing.

To get a reply

I'll write.

Until my pen replies.

©Wale Fidel~(HolyPoet)