I Write In Blood, Not Ink

I Write In Blood, Not Ink

I write in blood, not ink, you see,
Because these words are part of me,
Each line I write comes from within,
From every loss and every sin.

I write the things I cannot say,
The thoughts that never go away,
The tears I hide behind a smile,
The memories that stay awhile.

My pen becomes my closest friend,
It hears the words I cannot send,
It knows the truth I keep inside,
The things I never could confide.

Some words are written through the pain,
Some come like sunshine after rain,
Some tell of love, some tell of loss,
Some tell the story of the cost.

I don’t just write what sounds divine,
I write the truth between each line,
And if my words should touch your heart,
Then maybe we are not so far apart.

For every poem that I create,
Has something of my heart and fate,
A little piece of who I am,
A scar, a memory, a broken plan.

So when you read the words I write,
Know they were born from dark and light,
They weren’t just letters placed in rows,
They came from everything life knows.

And if my writing makes you feel,
Then maybe something in it heals,
Because I don’t write to simply rhyme,
I write my heart one word at a time.