The words are just at the tip of my tongue
But it steals them away until I am left hating the silence
This page laughs, each new draft makes a mockery of me
Too tired to fully commit or force myself to think
Too tired to gain my energy back
This ink holds so much potential within me
I avoid full stops in the hope that it will not hinder my progress
Grabbing the vial to swallow the ink
If it will not bend to my fingers and let me speak
Then I will become one with it
Ink flows through my veins
Sentences wrap themselves around my neck and limbs
Words empty my brain and fill it anew
My skin burns away, replaced with handcrafted paper
My eyes slowly open and the colour is different inks all mixed
My head raises to where they can see my face
Remade and tired of new drafts
Tired of feeling these words crawling under my skin
Tired of not letting them out on paper
Tired of not being able to write down the stories
With blood of ink, skin of paper and talons made of words
I am the story.
YOU ARE READING
Portals To Another World
Short StoryHey so these are random short stories,,, pick a title that plucks at your curiosity when you're bored yknow - striving to recreate the feeling of flying -
