It was like being too big
Wishing you could disappear
Inside the ever-growing
Crowd of people
As their eyes wander onto yours
While you try to ebb away
In the corner

But much too small
Inside this body
Like it could not contain
All your bones and muscles
Like your skin
Needed to be stretched out
In order to hold it all

It was an awkward in between
Of being too big
But also too small
Of being too much
But not enough
Like being nothing at all
And everything at once

The creature trickles
To your mouth
And pools around your lips

He drapes your shoulders,
Wraps your arms,
And licks your fingertips

The monster pouring
Down your spine
Demands your every breath

Cascading through
Your velvet soul
Hungry and obsessed

His golden hair
And amber fangs
Bronze your milky tones

He slides his teeth
Down to your knees
And craves your fleshy bones

He soaks your skin,
And steeps your lungs
In black and smoky fumes

His appetite
A savoring light
Until you were consumed

She often said ‘I love you’
But not for statement of a fact
She just liked the way it sounded
To hear someone say it back

“Oh God, You're a poet
And I, I was Your blank page,
Rather the blank page of a poet,
Than the blank page of man

Rather the blank page of someone who already envisioned me as a masterpiece,
Than the blank page of man

Yes, even before He poured out His ink heart on me,
He saw me, with all the hidden words that were scribbled across me
All the fears, hopes, dreams and wishes inked so wildly
Oh man, I was His pièce de résistance

Last night I was staring at this blank page,
But little did I know that it was staring at me,
Waiting for me to turn it into a written work of art
And just then I realized, I was staring at my reflection

This revelation brought clarity to every blank page on Earth
Oh God, we are Your work of art” - Demi.M Potts

Shackled hands and bowed heads,
Screams of those who slowly bled.
In the middle, laughing in cold demise,
Fuelled by all those howling cries,
Stood a man with heart black as ink,
Pain and sorrow made his rink.

A little girl, with a golden smile.  
Her father was her eternal mile.
Love of a mother, stolen by ink,
Tears flew from every blink.
Stolen away was her father too,
Truly hidden in the blue.
An oath of revenge, sliced the night.
In search of ink went, her eyes bright.

The pen of life replaced by a sword,
In front the inkheart known to hoard.
Slice, the sword cut through his heart,
And charred black ink stained the dart.

No one with an ink black soul,
Can live for long in galore.
Slowly Karma takes its place,
And no human can create a brace.