I write; the ink flows onto the page, decorating it with black swirls
My hand rubs raw against the page, skin chafing so badly it's like sunburn
A trickle of dark red ink flows from my hand, mixing with the black writing on the page
I have put my blood into this work
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Ink flows on to the page decorating life again and again. Fantastic sharing definitely.10
'I write; the ink flows onto the page, decorating it with black swirls' from the first line this poem was masterful, each line building into wonderfully contained stanzas, each finishing with blood, sweat, and tears put into the work, our paper life, until the turn of the last stanza, life as a paper boat on a river, floating away the old life gone, 'burned to ashes', the resolution to start life anew in the last line was a message of hope and regeneration.10+++