Ink


Ink is my pain
Most will never understand
It’s on my back
My arms
My hands
Coursing through my veins
Flowing through my pen
Permanent scars on paper
A story etched upon my skin
My soul
My pride
My insides exposed
Seething and burning
No longer hiding
Unleashing my words upon the world
Hours in the chair
Nights with a notebook and pen
My therapy
Both always questioned without end
Ink is my pain
Most will never understand
Healing myself with needle and pen…

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2 thoughts on “Ink

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