Life is but a blank page

Full of space and lines

The pen is the soul

Ink comes from courage

Whatever she desires to write

Still one should be aware

The ink is permanent

So all mistakes will show

Through the beginning until the end

It is your hand that carries the pen

What happens to those with little heart?

Their life is short with no thrill

Shall ones ink spill over

Then the end is near

Foolish mistakes become permanent horrors

When the ink runs dry please don’t cry

Hope and pray that the words you leave

Will have at least a momentary effect

On someone like you