Missing Pen

A poem I have not written
For a time too long to state
My mind and thoughts lost they are
In a bath of confusion and hate

Many a day here I sit
The world I try to fix
My pen the weapon designed
to fight, but in it is no win

Oh how I miss this paper here
Or the screen upon which I type
The words dancing across the page
In an order clear and concise

An honour it is, a poem to read
In a language, ever budding
How odd, the texture of ink drops
Can make ideas dance and flourish

Word selection, an art
A rare and delicate gift
For all who try , words to match
With no rules or constraints

Each letter a note
Upon a blissful melody played
Combining the music with lyrics so bold
Unleashing emotion to empower, behold!