Ink drools over the edge of an old oak table,
smudging over the letters - stealing them forever,
not to be seen out of my own mind.
My shoulders hang low, as I lie recovering
reality dispersing over me. Shackles incasing my wrists -
siphoning my creativity making me as useless as a mutt.
One with legs that drag in the back, covered with matted fur,
and dried blood scabbing over wounds of life.
It an I have forgotten our passion, one that's shared: love.
My passion is the only reason for my existence.
It flows onto the page that blooms only to falter from others.
I look back on the ink and try to flow with the smudges,
but there is no success. So I start over.
A new parchment paper, quill, ink.
-This was in "Aeipathy Elko High School Literart and Art Magazine 2016-2017" titled "Ink by: Jaclyn Hughes"
YOU ARE READING
Broken and Mended, a Poetry Collection.
PoetryA collection of poems that was written through times of hardship and battling in my own mind during my high school years. Battling depression, anxiety, and trying to learn who I am. I may not feel as passionate or even like my poems now, but I thoug...
