...pacing pacing pacing,
up and down on the artifically lit streets.
Tears streaming down my face
as I'm tossed down a tunnel of emotions.
I'm wondering...
what will happen?
will I lend my insanity to
the pen?
or will I pray to the
God of torment?
...running...running...running
words racing through my mind
" He's not alseep he's dead"
scrawling across the paper
free form...nothing will
constrict the mind of
this poet.
Searching for catharsis
This release in the form
of black and blue ink.
" Tell me your poison."
The epic poetry flows
scrawling scrawling scrawling...
a smile spreads across my face
it all comes at a price...
and this my dear friend
is my poetry.
Author notes
ha ha so this took me two days to write...
writers block really kills.
In a list
What did you think
Comments
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Ah...poetry as poison...better than drink, I suppose. Great, fierce imagery here. Thanks for sharing and good luck in my contest.
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....hello! this is really nice!!!..i got curious by just reading the title and wonder...i think pen is in your blood (if i exactly got your thoughts)...
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