Poem -

Ink

The ink I use
Never taints the page
My ink ebbs
From a fragile pen
It never runs dry
It never lets me down
The ruthless messenger
Delivers his poison
My ink it washes his sins away
My ink takes on my load
It makes me feel light
It makes it a little better
To wake up again
It doesn’t loathe
Nor it knows hard feeling.
It can hide from the fickle eraser
Its less worthy counterpart the pencil
Can’t touch him anymore
For the cuts may show
For a weakened spirit
But a 100 watt light
Can’t hold candle next
To my indomitable ink.
Hush! Listen close
For my voice
Now a mere whisper
Might not reach
The words I wrote
Just might
For I wrote them with a special ink
I wrote them with my blood
My life not too worthy
I gave up
For my words
Which will be immortalized
Through the glory of death.
Ā 
Ā 

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