Ink has only ever been,
My realistic ambition.
The black and the red and the blood and the bruises,
All spilled on a page,
Shoved between covers,
Placed in the back of my mind;
You can hurt me,
Just, another time.
When I have another line,
To fill with all the things I'd rather etch into your skull.
Excuse my hostility, I'll be better tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Reflection VS. Reality
PoetryBEAUTY is always going to be at the expense of my health. INTELLIGENCE is always going to make me feel incompetent. WISHES TO BE better will only ever be wishes. TRUST is too dangerous to consider, FAITH is for those who require an explanation, MI...
