Ink & Blood

A night where I crawl into my own skin,
I reach out to comfort my eyes; but my hands are all shaken, those eyes are completely dried.
The tears are no longer on my skin, something is telling me those rivers are a feeling that’s flowing in my insides,
I can’t bear the sight, and I’m not even in sight.
A weak creature, all I have is my tears and my poetry to write, all I have is my pen, and the ink would turn to blood when the words escape this tired heart to find shelter in between those frights.
All I had is them, all I have is them.
My dignity and my pride.
History was written for them, so are the seven skies.
Endlessly a follower and a believer even in the afterlife.

Reviews

[primavera]

Wow, I can totally feel your emotions in this small poem. Very well written! I hope that you have a great day and keep on writing! You definitely have a great skill & talent!