I can never seem to sleep
It seems as if I am too empty to even achieve some rest
At one point, I deemed myself to be no longer hollow,
I convinced myself that I had extinguished the void,
That unrelentingly dreadful void that dwells within my chest
Day after day I would draw a portrait in crimson ink
Yet, it was never truly worthwhile
Each and every crimson brushstroke
On each and every painted page
bled hot fire and emitted unbearable shame
It was unbearable to even glance at this mess
This appalling disaster my so-called solution had made
The sobs of grief that sounded from my mouth in my disarray
Made all who happened to be near aware my hopeless display
Inevitably, I went about destroying all my painful errors
Nonetheless, there remained an awful stain to my terror
My perfect solution, or so I thought
Left me with stains, tears and cuts
So I now have drained away all my crimson colors
And have hidden every one of my painted pictures
However, the other night an odd scene surrounded my door
There, I saw a letter urging me to paint in crimson once more
At first, I ignored it, but the letters kept coming every night
I could feel my heart drumming, when a letter was in sight
But this evening, I heard a faint whisper
That begged me to read that single letter
So, I gazed at it for a second,
Still, my memory did miss
That with a single drop of crimson color
Self-control ceased to exist
I no longer believe that I am empty
Rather, I believe that I am both empty and cursed
I want to sketch with crimson ink that is my thirst
I want to make a bleeding masterpiece
Crimson ink, my tenacious and uncontrollable urge
YOU ARE READING
13 Poems
PoetryA collection of poems I have written over the past few years. Each poem is paired with a piece of my artwork. Please don't steal or take credit for any of my artwork. More or my art can be seen on my tumblr @edge-impulse2 Or at my instagram accou...
