Ink stained fingers
Botched out words
So many emotions that haven't been heard
Hard to sort through
Like sifting sand
No diamonds no jewels or precious stones in hand.
Dry like the desert in peak dry season
Incarcerated I have no freedom
Ink forever scored on my brain
Thought and emotions never the same
Dry spells like dry seasons no rainfall
Ink falls heavy on desert dry sheets like monsoons
Saturated thoroughly no longer absorbent
Stanzas come and go but the rhythm is constant
Balance remains as verse refrains
Writing along with the same ink stains
Ace V. Loon
