The pain is slowly taking over;
Bit by bit, it ate my heart and mind,
Anger swallowed everything—
And thought it left me with nothing.
But fear not, my dear self,
I still have my pen with me—
Inkless it may be—
And paper; crumpled or tore apart.
I will raise my right hand—
Pick up the fallen pen,
Get the crumpled paper,
And will fill the pen with new ink.
Write your fears, your sadness,
Young lady, fear nothing but God.
Write your hopes, your happiness,
Every single thing you dream of.
The promises that you have made;
Be it for yourself or not, young lady,
Fulfill them all and not leave,
For there are still adventures waiting.