It's okay,
We're all the same here,
All of us stand like cracked ink pots,
There is black pigment spilling from out ribcages,
It will continue to flow untill we run dry,
Or untill we decide to open our eyes and cover up our wounds,
Like we are too proud of our battles to welcome the peace,
Our breath passes like love notes from the skin of our teeth to the grim reaper,
Our words cascade out of our throats like sunflowers,
And sometimes we choke,
But that's okay because at least we will not be reduced to rotting heaps of foilage,
We'd rather be remembered in sunflowers seeds than in tumble weed,
What is carved into the stone of heart is different to what you gouge into the flesh of your mind,
It's okay,
We're all the same here,
Our ribcages rattle with the echo of a heart beat,
A pair of shivering lungs slumped over on the floor,
But it's fine,
We are like cracked ink pots,
And we're running dry.
~🌹🌸💕👋👽💮🌾🌛🌠
A/N
So I've got a fren that does poetry and she honestly deserves more votes and reads because her stuff is just 👌😙
@NoorBashir
You should go check her out
Really.
