They always say your words paint pictures
When I pour the ink from my arm
Trickling and tickling between old scars
The words become a picture unto themselves
A picture book without illustration
For the words they are the characters
The blotted spaces where I paused to think
Scrolling sloppy lines where I rushed to get it on paper before I forgot
The misspellings and misused words that had been scribbled over in frustration
The characters illustrate a journey and a battle
Whole lines that had been marked out from fear of judgment
Smeared ink where my hand had rested from exhaustion and burning calluses
There is a story behind the poetry
That only I can see.
YOU ARE READING
Ink & Tears
PoetryThis is a collection of poems that I have written about my struggles with depression, anxiety, love, nature, and the darker aspect of the world that seems to always hammer on my heart. I hope this reaches some of you.
