Last Ink Drop

What a journey it has been,

A journey where a pen became my beacon of comfort

My voice when the voice couldn’t voice a voice

My tool for expression of feeling and emotions

But even such talents come with pains

Especially when it comes to writing what you probably didn’t believe in

Or when it comes to writing that which the heart could not beat out

From the “lady on the train” to the “ B in Bee”

From the “road to rediscovery” to the “man in the mirror”

I once thought the ink wouldn't finish on a good note

But in fact, I finished it a smile on my face

With a joy in my four-chambered heart

With a mind which thinks far less than usual

With a craft of more action than thinking

Happens to coincide to the point where my pen refused to work again.

One year of pen activity, over 10000 words

Some with positive vibes and others, controversially-born

Some with the intensity of suspense

Some with the force of squeezing tear glands and suck out the tears

And others, with meanings even I can not comprehend

And so , I have come to this road end

Or, could there be another bend to this?

One I am yet to see its constructive-next?

It is too early to say

This isn’t a farewell, neither is it a "see you later"

It is a product of the at-the-moment feeling

To all who has praised and inflated my zeal

Say what I can? Sorry I am?

But can I really stay away?

I have not more ink anymore, like a Shakespearean prop

Full stop, punctuated, the last ink drop.

🙈🙈🙈🙊🙊