(Image Credit: Arman Lotfi at http://www.unsplash.com)
The nib of the fountain pen takes on a capricious yet inevitable slant
The train of thoughts pile up like derailed coaches adorning a junkyard
Scavenging through broken windows desperate for a sliver of light
Forager of dreams lost in the swirling world of chaos and deceit
Never losing hope as the soul plumbs, plumbs….
(Word Count: 55)