Pencil to paper.
I'll write on scraps.
I'll send you a letter.
They say things will get better.
Pencil to paper.
She sent me a heartbreaker.
A note of my loss.
A trip that bore no cost.
Pencil to paper.
I knew he would break her.
I wrote a quote.
A love that took a vote.
Pencil to paper.
The only rule breaker.
The love of ours.
The way she cried for hours.
Pencil to paper.
I drew out a place.
One that bears no soul.
This house to call home.
Pencil to paper.
The words bring you safer.
The thought of chocolate wafers.
The killing on Mount Baker.
Pencil to paper.
Are you afraid of salt shakers?
Or maybe earth quakers?
The thought of death consumes you.
Pencil to paper.
These words on a page.
They leave you with rage.
A heart of gold who was said to be untold.
Pencil to paper.
The dark isn't later.
The black hole is here.
It feeds on us like wolves do deer.
Pencil to paper.
Have I told a lie?
Have you stopped to ask why?
Did you even try?
Pencil to paper.
Words aren't a game.
They leave people insane.
No flame or eraser can get rid of the way you wrote of her.
Pencil to paper.
Leave my mind raped.
My soul completely shamed.
My heart never tamed.
Pencil to paper.
The mere thought of you.
It made me insane.
And you the one one to blame.
Pencil met paper.
And the writer became the reader.
The book became her life.
A flame burnt its pages.
And now shes only left with blank words of her dark ages.
YOU ARE READING
The Days With No Sun
PoetrySometimes we fear truth over reality. But things get dark and heavy and we play the blame game. We end up hurting others or ourselves even. We don't think before we act or we don't say before we do. This is the evolution of my madness. A cluster of...
