For me ink flows like blood,
Through veins,
Thicker then the blood itself,
When pen is put to paper,
More can be said in a scrawled sentence,
More then can be said in a whole lifetime of speech,
Lock me in a cell with just paper and pen,
And I will thrive for eternity.
I feed off words like a starving animal,
I seek warmth from the chronicles of others,
Ink flows like blood.
A/N:
This is a bit of a mess I kind of just threw it together one night but then its really real to me idk I can't imagine a life without writing and books.
YOU ARE READING
thirteen
Poetrythe realistic, unfiltered musings, poems and truth of the teenage years. All are written by me. Some are hypothetical situations, i'm in a good place, just very dramatic xoxo
