Nov 2016
Ink, ink, ink,
It was the same ink which wrote those notes, we passed in class,
I’d read them, my hair a curtain round my face,
Hiding the feelings my face would betray.
Ink, ink, ink,
It was the same ink which wrote those love letters stashed carefully under a comer of my bed.
You’d read them, a light smile playing on your lips, in your eyes I’d see my words and
I’d fall in love with you all over again.
Ink, ink, ink,
It was the same ink that wrote those poems in my notebook,
The ones you’d pretend you couldn’t see.
I’d read them again and again,
And each time I’d find a sadder meaning behind each line.
And you have to believe me I’d never do all of this just for attention.
Ink, ink, ink,
It was the same ink that wrote those dreadful, melancholy lines you’d hear people talking about in the hallways.
I’d sit in a corner of the washroom sobbing till I couldn’t breathe,
Then wash my face, erasing all the evidence off my face that my eyes couldn’t hide.
They’d look at me and ignore my pain, cuz u know people they’d rather believe the lies than hear the truth.
Ink, ink, ink,
And finally it was the same ink that wrote that suicide note I kept on the rack. I read it one last time before finally walking away, slipping and drowning into the water.
But this time I didn’t try to fight back.
**I SANK, I SURRENDERED, I SLEPT.
It was the same ink which wrote those notes, we passed in class,
I’d read them, my hair a curtain round my face,
Hiding the feelings my face would betray.
Ink, ink, ink,
It was the same ink which wrote those love letters stashed carefully under a comer of my bed.
You’d read them, a light smile playing on your lips, in your eyes I’d see my words and
I’d fall in love with you all over again.
Ink, ink, ink,
It was the same ink that wrote those poems in my notebook,
The ones you’d pretend you couldn’t see.
I’d read them again and again,
And each time I’d find a sadder meaning behind each line.
And you have to believe me I’d never do all of this just for attention.
Ink, ink, ink,
It was the same ink that wrote those dreadful, melancholy lines you’d hear people talking about in the hallways.
I’d sit in a corner of the washroom sobbing till I couldn’t breathe,
Then wash my face, erasing all the evidence off my face that my eyes couldn’t hide.
They’d look at me and ignore my pain, cuz u know people they’d rather believe the lies than hear the truth.
Ink, ink, ink,
And finally it was the same ink that wrote that suicide note I kept on the rack. I read it one last time before finally walking away, slipping and drowning into the water.
But this time I didn’t try to fight back.
**I SANK, I SURRENDERED, I SLEPT.
up to six poems a day.
