My Ink

“My Ink”

They ask why I write.

My poetry
is
but
emotions
spilled unto
paper.

My heart
is
the ink
of
my pen.

My words
are
based on
events
I can
not accept,
nor
do many
comprehend.

I am
a
river
of emotions.

I wonder
how
this river
fits
in
my chest.

It is
this
river
that soaks
papers
with words.

So long
as
my heart
beats,
there is
ink
for
my pen.

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6 thoughts on “My Ink

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