Bleeding Ink Poem by Arik Fletcher
Bleeding Ink
Her body is her journal,
Her body is her life,
Her body is her monument to misery and strife.
She writes about the memories,
She writes about the pain,
She writes about the loneliness and tears that fall like rain.
Her ink holds all the secrets,
Her ink holds all the lies,
Her ink holds all the truth she knows when all that she loves dies.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
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4/26/2024 1:04:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
real pretty piece................