My pen is dark
My pen is imbued in darkness,
The ink I use, a dark trail.
It trembles, like smoke.
Like poisoned waters.
It stains the poems
I try and fail to make bright.
Like a curse it clings to my words,
It has become my signature.
Yet, if darkness is not created,
If it merely seeps through holes,
Why is it pouring, I wonder,
From my overflowing soul?
noemiluisa
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