Bleeding Pen and Paper.

in poem •  2 months ago 

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Writing is war but I didn't know before,
If I had known, I'll have like a soldier, prepared,
exercising, training and disciplining my mind,
to flow along with my hands.
Writing is a battle of wits,
my brain doesn't agree with my heart,
my hands get confused on who to succumb to.

Though writing is fun, it's like a good design,
which does not make sense at its advent.
It's like gold that needs to pass through the fire,
before coming out beautiful and valuable.
Well, I'll agree that creativity comes from idiocy,
that is tamed and constructed towards novelty
and the will to make a difference in society.

My paper is bleeding,
right now, I'm on the battlefield,
My brain with its swords,
my heart with its arrows,
both ready to hurl and subdue the one another.
My paper is the recipient,
trying to find a balance amidst its wounds,
I hope it will survive the bleeding.


Thank you for your time.


My pen doesn't bleed, it speaks, with speed and ease.

Still me,

My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.

Olawalium; (Love's chemical content, in human form). Take a dose today: doctor's order.

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Gracias 🤗🤗🤗🥰😍❤