Tales of a journal

My black ink pen
So often vomits more unhappy stories
Than a tragic novel;
Oozes misfortune
And bleeds bitter mediocrity.
But I remain hopeful,
That before the ink dries up
It will refill and overflow
With positivity;
It will pour a happiness on the verge of fiction
But it will be real
It will be sweet simplicity.
My black ink pen,
Familiarized with tragedy,
Accustomed to despair,
Will put a full stop
To the end of unfortunate events.
The scribbles will be erased
—just enough to be remembered—
But will be overwritten
With delight
—cursive formations of words
Telling a story with a happy ending
To a past misfortune
And a hopeful beginning
Of a new novel
With chapters of glee
And in between the delight,
My black ink pen
Will dry up of ink
Leaving untold stories of joy
That will complete my life’s novel
And only happiness will fill it’s pages ...


Writing in my journal, I realized that the pages consist only of my unhappiness as that is all I have to write about. I hope to have that change one day. That is the basis of this poem.

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over 4 years


Zaytoen Domingo
over 4 years

I hope so too. Thank you for you support :)

over 4 years

A beautiful piece.I hope you get to write of happy and better times. :)

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