Death of A Writer

One last paragraph.

“Elaborate prose has failed me.
Dishonestly I used it to appease the audience inside my head.
I wrote to impress and little for myself.
This pen, I lay down for the last time,
has been the sward that has kept the monsters away.
Unarmed I greet my fate with a smile.”

His eyes closed. The pen rolled along the table onto the floor.