Poems?

Ink

My heart leaks ink.
Not the ink you would find in a pen,
But the ink which drowns a being.

Thick and black,
Like a harrowing blanket smothering my soul.

This very ink is what plagues my thoughts.
What plagues my conscience.
What plagues my drive and passion.

This thick, sticky, poisonous substance,
It grips my motivation,
wears down my emotions,
And holds my positivity captive in its ruthless confines.

I have become cold.
I have become distant.
I have become...

Lonely

The ink pouring from my heart,
Weighs down my mind.

It is the cause of my self destruction.

21/4/2020