I am a writer
No matter what they say.

My pen flows
and my wrist goes;
Writing
words no one will see

My hands shake
eyes tear
wrist bleed in lines of icy scarlet
I am a writer; my cross to bear.

If i loved you
I'd give you my hands
my sacrafice for love
my words would be yours

Like Van Gogh,
I would bleed
for; the one I need
to need me.