Sunday, 29 January 2017
He writes, with his pen, ravaging through the skin of paper, lays his pen down.
He writes with balls of adhesive tears, vicious of the pain dissolved in them, rolling down, washing away.
With his pen and a heart battling with fear, he trembles to strokes of ink, banishing purity, lying his way.
Ravaging through the skin of paper, tattooing it with bitterness, hate and stains of sweat, words cut and slay.
He lays his pen down, on the bleeding bruised paper, pushes back the chair, stands up and walks away.
This, he had to relay.
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