The pen has no blood,

the tub fills with ink,

draining ever more fast now,

smile at the moon,

throw me to the wolves,

I know I’m coming back…

where is the light,

dark is the grey,

here I sit,

In the shadow of the day,

now speak,

clear and bright,

close this wound,

and breathe the life,

why so long,

why so deep,

unable to stop,

the ink just seeps

drip drip drip,

you know how I got these scars,

day by day,

at a time so low,

and here I sit,

The ink never shallow,

but there will be a time,

not to near,

I could stand and walk,

I have no fears,

for fear is like a demon, untamed it will kill

i tried to drowns these demons,

from high up on a hill

lost on only on thought,

what will be,

as the ink turns red from black,

here I sit,

the blood runs clean…

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