Glossy black fills the void within
In the heart with which the blood drips
Cherry and pitch blends on its fine tips
Ends sharpened, as strokes creep
Scratch noises plays tune
And with the spill of ink, they sing
The words dance to its music
Together, their harmony rings
There is no ink of black; greater
Than pens holding blood and tears
No strokes are too faultless
For lines conveying sorrow and fears
Phrases turned to walls, with letters as bricks
Words all mighty and high,
yet there's a meaning it still seek.
(a/n: plagiarism is a crime)
