a r c a n e [Poems]

i n k a n d b l o o d

Blood stains the pages of the book
Words written in the blood

A story in every cell
And a word in every atom

Told to write them a story
Told to tell them my thoughts and feelings
The things that keep me up at night
The things that I love
The things that I hate

Everything's there
Just not always in the blood

I guess I forgot to mention that there is also ink

Black ink splatters the page next to blood

The black ink tells you the likes
The dislikes
Everything in one's personality that is seemingly normal

But the blood is still there
It itches to be read
But only few can understand it's crimson words

Only few can read the stories it tells and the lies it's heard

The people who hurt it and the constant screaming

Oh screams echo through the blood
A beautiful song to be heard
But still only few know it's tales

The adventures it's been on
And the things it's seen
The journeys it's travels
And the loved ones lost

The ink and blood can not mix but together they weave together a beautiful tale

But the blood still came from the wrist of what was thought to be a child.