During my sorrows
And my scary and seemingly malevolent morrows
When no vocal words I could utter
And in trying each phrase I stutter
And futile is my every endeavour

With my dear trio I often prevail
It provides me with a rail,
By which to travel to my heart
And haul out-
Unspeakable feelings and emotions-
Housed within it
And express them in the grandest of fashions

With a pen, my hand, and a paper
My attempts often prosper
And every sentence created
Is eloquent and well-articulated
And every story well narrated

The most profound of my emotions
And my sea deep feelings
Are brought to life by a pen and my hand
And by the paper forever stored
Every hard to say sentiments expressed

With the pen and paper I found friendship
Established loyal and lasting companionship
Never doubting these with secrecy
Devised engagements so solid in variety
Far beyond those in any human fraternity

These listened when I talked about my first love bliss
About my first ever kiss
With their aid devised beautiful and exuberant love poems
And those about my painful relationships problems

Now wanting to write
About the end of our promenade
About the woeful fading of our love
My hand defies a proper grasp
And though full of ink, my pen refuses to write
And the paper glitters and blinds my eyes

I suspect my beloved trio
Has grown accustomed-
To the soothing ballads
And sweet love poems about us they devised
And is now on a crusade
Against the end of our love

STILL I CANNOT WRITE
MY TRUSTED FRIENDS HAD DEFIED ME
MY SORROWS BOTTLED INSIDE