Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
A hand scribbles violently. The pen carving through the lined paper. Black Ink spilling out of the deep cuts, Soaking into the pristine page. Words blocking out the light, By illuminating knowledge. Strong, scared, and weary hands fight.
0
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 1:00 AM UTC
Black Ink
A hand scribbles violently. The pen carving through the lined paper. Black Ink spilling out of the deep cuts, Soaking into the pristine page. Words blocking out the light, By illuminating knowledge. Strong, scared, and weary hands fight.
Sometimes writing poetry feels like you're getting ready to go into battle.
SilverLaughter
Written by
28/F/Vermont
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 1:00 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem