SYNOPSIS
Writers don't weep tears just like other individuals do for instead, they bleed ink transferring their melancholia on an empty sheet of paper and giving birth to an art close to perfection. These are the pieces that are never different from those that are crafted out of a poetess' blood. Listen to her whimpers. Feel the pain she feels through reading the pieces she bled.
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She Who Bled Ink
Poetry"You just broke my heart. Nope, it wasn't that kind of heartbreak that could make me weep. It was that kind of heartbreak that could make my heart bleed endless ink." -Eos Pleuvoir SYNOP...
