Solace Of Writing

By Hardik Jain

Unsettled thoughts, they swirl and spin,

Too much to hold, they pour within,

The ink runs low, but still I try,

To write it all, before I die.

To pour my heart, onto the page,

To express the feelings, that were never said,

To make sense, of the turmoil inside,

To find some peace, before I hide.

But still, the paper remains blank,

Unwilling to understand, or even to thank,

The writer's pen, for all the care,

That went into each word, each feeling bare.

But still, I write, I cannot stop,

For in the words, my soul will drop,

And though the paper, may not care,

The writing process is a solace rare.

So let the ink, continue to flow,

Let the emotions, al1 be shown,

For in the writing, we find relief,

And a chance to heal, and find some peace.

By Hardik Jain