From Blood and Ink

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 31, 2018

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Submitted: August 31, 2018

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I want to write

I need to write

But words cannot prolong the night

That darkness now consumes my life

The pen I hold becomes the knife

That slices deep into my skin

Forever marked like deadly sins

Sins that burn and leave a scar

That all can notice, close and far

But they’re not mine, they’re not I swear

This pain I hold is mine to bare?

And bare them, for years I’ve done

Graciously your gracious son

I’ve held my tongue 

I’ve held my tears

Closed my eyes and plugged my ears

Like a silhouette standing tall

How fragile I can break and fall

Second place, so second best

A fading pulse inside my chest

This haunting rhythm shocks me numb

Then thunders like a roaring drum

I light my cig

I grab my pen

Such a thrill to feel again

The bruise he left it fills my soul

The words that flow have more control

For, I could write a symphony 

A thousand screams in harmony

A perfect pitch in melody 

Of ever lasting agony 

Leaving no words left unspoken 

Nameless here I leave no token 

Token of the soul that lies before

Discarded boy upon the floor

So, second love because second born

The hand you made has always torn

Torn with the knife that pours the ink

Carving “Fuck, how could you think that you could be as great as him?”

Those words have ripped me limb from limb

Leaving me but empty thoughts 

Displayed for all to fix my faults 

Faults you made, yet do not claim

But bastardize my given name 

Yet soon enough I must prevail

Through blood and ink I will not fail 

And show the world just who I am 

More than just some son of sam

A voice, a vision for seeking truth

The martyr of this living proof

Revolver mind with loaded words

To trim the wrong throughout the herds 

 

 

 


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