Inkwell

The mind fragile and of glass

Isn't steel, metal, or brass

The brain, our personal inkwell

Often lays dormant, under a spell

This cursed trickery revels in glee

It has won out in our conformity

The inkwells dried up and bottles empty

Because we don’t need paper, save the trees

No medium of personality transferable

No way to express individuality preferable

Waste away each and every day

Discussing and pondering what you should say

Forget the technology we appraise so

Separate yourself from this death row

Dust off your inkwell and fill it to the brim

Pull out your pen and brush so form-fittingly slim

Speak words aloud freshly scribed

Sing songs whose lyrics you’ve long past modified

Even if outcast and misunderstood

Genuine emotion can find its way from the woods

Stop hiding in the forest so lost and alone

The trees are the people all carrying the same tone

Clean out the attic so dusty back home

Rediscover your inkwell and let your mind roam

Ink Bleeds

As my heart wrenches in pain

I write it all out, paper and ink

There is nothing left to do but gain

At a point where I just can’t sink

No more, no more

Tears dried up and gone

Long gone, a long time before

Waiting for a new dawn

Across the snowy white sheet

Single strokes hatch their way across

Flowing streams across paved streets

Into the frail, thin body, I emboss

All along the once clean slate

Ink cries and weeps from wells we once knew

Dancing out the figures our words cannot state

Ink bleeds, coloring everything we’ve been through

I write until I can write no longer

I draw until the ink bleeds dry

Empty, at a gravely end and danger

Tired and resigned, can no longer pry

Listen to the ink’s bloody tears

Dripping and soaked

Watch as it paints splattered smears

Burning and eyes cloaked

Allowing the music box too unwind

Twisting and turning again and again

Playing out emotions deaf and blind

Gushing the gore, of the ink, of the pen