Writer’s Curse

Ah, it has been too long
Since the last time I’ve looked at them
And seen them as they should be seen:
As creatures of light, blood and meat.
It has been so long
I almost can’t recall,
How they looked at me!
With those blurred eyes
That dried sweat
And those fake tears.
Ah, it has been too long,
And now I’ve forgotten
How they talked, how they breathed.

It has been too long,
And all that my eyes now see:
Is Ink!
Ink that walks, talks
Ink that breathes,
Ink, that when required
Is able to hold a speech,
Ink that I use,
That I hold in my hands
And control it, as I see fit.
Ink,
No blood, no tears
Only ink, black-black ink.

That I use
And dye with it
My sheets; My empty, white sheets.

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4 thoughts on “Writer’s Curse

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