Ink runs down my chin
Once its left my lips
It drips and drips
To my fingertips
So I write on a slab
The story of my past
Letters in black
What I’ve been holding back
Once I’m finished
And I’ve used up all language
I take a step back
To see what I did
But it's illiterate
Blobs of nonsense
Is this all that I am
Something no one will understand?
In anger and frustration
I try smearing what makes me a person
But the ink is dry
I cant hide
From who I am
All that I can do
Is add more and more
Till my hands are shaking
And there is new ink in the making
So that instead of black blobs of nothing
I can create colors of wonder and lightning
So that on this slab
I mirrored myself and my past
So that I can come back
To the moment I found who I am
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 12:53 AM UTC
Ink runs down my chin
Once its left my lips
It drips and drips
To my fingertips
So I write on a slab
The story of my past
Letters in black
What I’ve been holding back
Once I’m finished
And I’ve used up all language
I take a step back
To see what I did
But it's illiterate
Blobs of nonsense
Is this all that I am
Something no one will understand?
In anger and frustration
I try smearing what makes me a person
But the ink is dry
I cant hide
From who I am
All that I can do
Is add more and more
Till my hands are shaking
And there is new ink in the making
So that instead of black blobs of nothing
I can create colors of wonder and lightning
So that on this slab
I mirrored myself and my past
So that I can come back
To the moment I found who I am