It has been so dark, like a night that lasts for days,
and as it lifts—calm, clarity.
But the dark comes again, darker than before
Shades of blackness that chill the soul, I glimpse madness.
In the solitude I have driven myself to find
I grasp the lonely pen and crinkled paper,
pouring out my heart and soul until I am empty
As black inside, as out, I sink into the void;
I’m relieved to be back, I long for this place.
In my waking sanity and reprieve from the dark,
where my art languishes and seems to fade,
the pen is made lonely by the light in my eyes.
Miss me no longer my sweet companions.
Till once more I have undone my soul to you,
leaving the scars of ink as tribute to darkness and pain
no longer inside my mind, I sink back into the pillows
to cry out my relief, till frustration overtakes me
reminding me that I am once again at my starting place.
Void of the knowledge you called forth from me
I have no use now. The words are dried up.