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Blood and Ink upon the Page

Poetry By: zer0

A free-verse poem. A dark perspective on writing and the page. No rhyme. Metered rhythm.

Submitted:Nov 21, 2008    Reads: 263    Comments: 11    Likes: 8   

Pushing violently against the patterned walls

Of what I should have been
Spurred on by voices screaming down the crowded
Corridors of darkened thought
Until at last I concede with, a heavy breath
And softly slide the twisted clip
Of ink into my waiting gun, a child's hand

Pushing violently against the ordered walls

Of what I should have felt
This ache so dulled by pretty pills of hatred
Cynical and coldly
Longing for the safety off. Now it's chambered


…the spaces white: a cloudy mirror. I take aim
At a faulty imitation of
My self, arms screwed into the page
Coldly kiss the silhouette of living
Death "good bye" until we kill again
Finally I'm heard no more.


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