This is where she pours her heart,
with just a paper and pen.
Ink is blotched onto paper,
which speaks a thousand words,
that mouths are unable to speak,
hearts are unable to bleed,
and that the world is unable to see.
the girl,
who is quiet as the grave
whose mind is as loud as the tidal wave.
her hands,
her hands filled with blue,
is writing.
Writing her heart,
pouring her soul,
drop by drop
slowly emptying out the ocean,
which inhabits her thoughts.
//a.v\\
Note: This is the introductory poem of this story. The following poem is the first part. This story will contain both poems and proses, both done in alternate order. Hope you have a great read!
Constructive Criticism is well appreciated!
Comment and vote!
P.S - All of these poems are my own. Any kind of plagiarism is not acceptable.
YOU ARE READING
{ Inked Pages } (#Wattys2016)
Poetry"Words are things and a small drop of ink, falling like a dew upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think." "One pen. A piece of paper. A complicated mind. An entire universe." ...
