The soul bleeds, and the heart cries. The tear ducts are dry from d heat of despair...Wounds that never heal;
They burn and torture, as if my memories of you are the keys to the great gates of hell.
YOU ARE READING
The Soul Ink
PoetryMy Soul travels at the speed of a thousand knots Oh And yet the marvel at a single thought So many moments i can't afford a single blink I must keep a journal written in my Soul's ink
