silence of the pen

The pen,
It lies in the corner,
Away from paper,
With a broken nib.

There were days,
It never did rest;
Pouring my thoughts,
Scarring through sheaves.

Gone are the days,
It had ink to its brim,
Falsifying truth,
And transmuting lies.

Thoughts still sail,
And words does flow,
But the pen remain,
Tongueless and dumb.