By Brendan Spasovski
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A stroke is mightier than a slash,
Ink built our world, and can crumble it faster than it dries,
It holds our memories, thoughts, and our stories,
It also banishes the pain, the heartbreak, and the ache,
They are commonplace, come on with a tap, dot dot; commonly when needed they are gone,
In their loss we’re granted courage, no hesitation to search when in need of help,
If lucky, on the way, you find what otherwise passes by,
Held in one hand, disposable,
Held in the other, you never want to let go,
Devilishly intricate, yet simple in its form,
But at the end of the day, it was just a pen.