PEN

I tugged, I pulled, I tried moving,
I longed to go to the place where the world was moving,
But I was binded by chains, chains of illiteracy,
All to no avail, I first had to deal with my incompetency.
The cold, brutal chain, tied to my feet,
Symbol of dejection, emblem of defeat,
The hard stony ground, adding to my plight,
For I longed to fly, fly to a lofty height.
Success was a dream, one I thought will never come true,
But then I saw a brilliant radiance, one to lead me through,
You call it a pen, I call it a map,
For the mysteries of the world it began to unwrap.
From it I learnt of men of valour,
From it I knew how the rainbow had its colour,
From it, I also learnt a true life lesson,
That life itself, is a blessing.
I looked at myself, liberated yet in serfdom,
I longed for more, I longed for freedom,
Physical freedom as well as mental Independence,
The latter I had gotten, the former I yearned for hence.
Then I remembered an old saying, an ancient word:
The pen is mighty, mightier than the sword,
I went wild, cut off my leg,
For without it, I could still hit the world with my peg.
How could I move I wondered,
Life had given me its worst blow, I was battered,
Then I remembered the pen is more than an instrument of war,
It could serve as crutches, one I could live for.
I picked up my crutches with all faith,
And to the brighter part I moved on... I changed fate.
©stephen001