picking the pen

picking the pen
let me squeeze the ink
the soul yearns
it twitches
for days of past
that now lie abandoned
in the ghost towns
of memories
that scarred
my childhood
neva learnt to count
or cross my T's
besides
living under the bridge
one is not really worried
about the cars
that may pass above
or the rats
with real beast and mean
dracula teeth
that my puzzle
a few K9's
to say the least
you take life
as it comes
or rather it finds you
dirtied in tatters
that may sink the preachers wife's heart
who is there for the lost children
the pen takes centre stage
it bleeds
to understand
is this what God had in Mind?

© 2015 Justice Chikandamina