~Ink~

Words flow, practically emanating from my mind as I write
Each syllable as haunting as the next
With my pen scraping and my heart throbbing, I begin to lose sight
Of myself as I am caught in an endless smog that I have vexed

As I leave myself among the pages, my mind is filled
With the painful past I've kept between the cracks of my walled soul
Memories are revisited and fulfill their havoc on my heart that's been killed
By the very thing I write about--the man who blantantly stole

The innocence I once held within me that's now a seething vapor
The atmosphere is infused with my stifled cry
And as I trace my fingers over the ink on my paper
I remind myself that it's not half as dark as I.