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Dec 2014
The breathe in my pen grew shallow.
Each scribble whittled me down.
Before I knew it, the pen that
            I wrote with ran out of ink
                    Just before my heart ran out out of beats
                                       This was a story not to be finished
                                                      Bu­t the ink stains on my hands
                                                                ­  Were like the scars of my past.
                                                           ­                               A constant reminder.
Jaybs Ragudo
Written by
Jaybs Ragudo  Seattle, Washington
(Seattle, Washington)   
905
   Lexi Vinton
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