She was born
With poems
Running through her veins
And a pen
Where her tongue should be.
Ink replaced blood
And words were her atoms.
The sounds of a typewriter
Coincided with every
Thump of her heart.
She absorbed the beauty
And the pain,
The mystical
And the unexplained
In everything around her,
And in her brain
They transformed
Into words and thoughts
That flowed through her tongue.
YOU ARE READING
Ink Stained Soul
PoetryAnecdotes and snapshots of life, sometimes mine sometimes based off of other people, events, songs, books, etc. I hope you enjoy it, but more than that, I hope you can connect with something bigger than all of us. After all, isn't that the point of...
