our stories end
tonight, it starts
tomorrow
and again.

the books
we've read,
the letters
we've written;
the pages
we've burned,
the pages
we've ruined.

the pen
we're holding,
the fuel
is our thoughts;
the words
we're writing,
the fire
of our souls.

we are not writers,
we are not poets.
we are survivors
with pen in our hands.