Somedays

Somedays I think that

all I have in me are words.

Sentences instead of bones,

and poetry for blood.

My tongue is a pen,

and air is my ink.

Every word I speak

is written on the parchment

of the skies.

I shall write until

I run out of ink

and when I have no words,

I shall die

For words are life

and when I have no more,

Death is the only option.

There is nothing in this world

like putting pen to paper

and knowing that someday,

somewhere,

someone may read your words

and understand the meaning

of your petty rants

to be what they are;

A cry for help,

a plea for eyes to see

The broken heart

that is me.

Words are my everything.

Dagenn

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