Poems of a Broken Soul

The Writer

I said I was a writer, 

Then I saw scheming in your glance. 

You had wished to live forever, 

And now I was your chance. 

You clawed your way inside me. 

Shot jet black ink through my veins. 

Made sure that I would write of you

Until I drove myself insane. 

You longed to be the hero. 

Like in books you used to read. 

Remembered as the kind of man everybody needs. 

It was too late when you noticed

The one mistake that you had made. 

That a warrior might fight with swords, 

But the pen is a writer's blade. 

You can't just tear my world up

And then expect a loving rhyme. 

You used your words as sharpened weapons. 

And now I will use mine

I trapped you in ink handcuffs

Locked you behind my written bars, 

And now you'll finally live forever

As the monster you are