Blooded Ink
Written in oh..idk the past
The sky of my temptations
Has bottomless holes that bore into eternity.
I have loves and fascinations
When I have not patience nor serenity.
If I looked into my heart Id find
Brave as I may think I be
Pain would be there to challenge me.
Though with hope so full in life I dream.
Yet when tears are all these eyes can see.
It magnifies all that sets my soul alight.
But a sad heart cannot always write
For it functions as it is made to but not as well as it wishes it could
Sorrow may hold wisdom
But it’s in constant battle to be understood.
Why may I not write how I feel?
Why can I not forage in my mind as I once did?
And rend out this emotion?
Instead of drowning them in chaos?
Where such chaos inside is an ocean.
But set them afloat and into motion.
sailing into veins that bind through me.
So letting them slither from blood to hand.
Into my pen and onto paper
Should it flee.
to craft from my blood torn from vein again.
Blood to ink and ink to hand.
Hand weaving the violent scene that is verse.
Bleed out on demand
words that whispers a start so soft but screams the end.
Is it that all blood within I willingly gave to you?
Every word I had to give Sacrificed upon the writers alter what was due.
So now I stand transparent, a ghost squeezed empty.
Through and through.
—C.R.Stanger
