You see a pen, I see a sword.
For I battle my dreams with written word.
You see paper, yet I see a shield.
For only through script will my scars be healed.
You see a lamp, while I see hope.
For what lights the dark is how I cope.
You see a desk, but I see a ship.
For here I can travel on a long needed trip.
You call it silence, well, I call it dreams.
For what appears is not what it seems.
What you see as useless, broken and worn,
I see as strong and ready to be reborn.
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Do not use without author’s permission