They say,
That pain creates a writer.
They say,
That writers don't cry;
But bleed out on the paper.
But what do you write
When you're numb?
Nothing crosses your mind.
Staring at the blank space ahead,
When there's nothing.
Like a blank slate.
~☆~✧~✧~☆~
Gotta find a chalk.
Anna
YOU ARE READING
Inks of Heart
PoetryJust some words woven into lines making the fabric of a poem; sometimes prose. #1 poetry #1 book of poems #1 poembook #2 prose #4 motivation #7 poem { Copyright © 2021, Anna Woods}
