Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2018
Take this pen that is my hands
and disassemble its pieces
with my thoughts.
Tug on the strings to my heart
and we shall let the ink from inside pour.
and pour.
Out onto a page that was once blank
but now covered in ink
as I bleed out.
So that when I have finally drained
Our picture will be painted perfect.
Written by
Scarlet  17/F
(17/F)   
379
     Pradip Chattopadhyay and Zizaloom
Please log in to view and add comments on poems