Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),
Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!
Anyway let's get right to it,
With every word I pen down, I see how your innate melody distorts them to fall in line with the tune, you were born with. In all its splendour and glory, I see your music seeping into the hearts of the grieved and happy. The music whose essence I create. As I write and scratch off words, I see you in the distance, giddy with the impatience of not being called sooner. I see you held prisoner at the threshold of the paper that shelters your would-be lyrics while I struggle to find that perfect word that sends pangs of warmth and sorrow flying to every listener, kind enough to lend you their ears.
My heart grieves with every syllable I give birth to on this magical night, knowing they won’t be mine, after you enslave them to your tantalizing beauty of rhythm. I can feel myself running out of ink while my metal nib continues to write and scratch words over and over. Oh, how I wish I could make them sing for me like you will.
I have to say this isn't the first time I've seen a story from the perspective of a pen, but this is certainly a very interesting take on such a situation. Going along with that title there, this particular pen seems to be in a rather sad state here and is proclaiming it all in a language that's just ever so slightly bordering on humorous while also conveying a very interesting message. Nonetheless, it makes for a very intriguing start here, and I'm excited to see where you take this.
Through parchment after parchment, you sit and watch as I grow wearier and wearier exhausting myself to hunt for that perfect word we both know doesn’t exist yet. Word after word, syllable after syllable, period after period; oh how we toil through the moonlit night! I’m at the last verse now and I hear your heart flutter with the joy of completion as I admire my handiwork.
There is a very interesting atmosphere you generate through this particular piece here that is highlighted nicely in this little paragraph. As a writer, you can relate to these feelings that are being broadcast here and to see it happen as a pen would see it, with the added sort of gravity that comes with how this is the pending expending its energy and slowly fading away as it runs out of ink, it creates quite some emotion within you as a reader.
I find myself letting out a long, sad sigh of relief as I put that period at the end of the last word of the final verse. I survey my piece of work and watch as you soar into the words, breathing life into every nook and corner of every word. I take my place on the chipped wooden box reserved for me and listen as you’re sung, every word falling into a place of its own. I listen as the music drifts and drips down my soul, seeping into my heart and enslaving my mind forevermore.
My soul twirls to the rhythm of the song, you make the skies sing tonight. Oh, dear song, how I wish I could write you all over again.
Hmm, the way this pen ends thing off there suddenly makes it clear what this pen is talking to, which appears to be the piece of writing, and well, that adds another interesting touch there. The pen also knowing its a writing instrument with its own place is an interesting choice there. It all comes together to make a pretty intriguing piece here I think. You've certainly left us readers with something to think about and it is an enjoyable piece here.
Aaaaand that's it for this one.
As always remember to take what you think was helpful and forget the rest.
Stay Safe
Harry
Points: 254163
Reviews: 4102
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