I've lost my pen --
my veins are clogged
with black poison.
somehow, the ink
still flows from my fingertips,
and I'm not able
to stopper it.
perhaps the ink is now
refined,
new words forming
from the dust
of the old.
or
perhaps it merely
ruined
the innocence of something
that was once
brand
new.
Gender:
Points: 1682
Reviews: 57