The Essence Of Who I Am

There’s ink stains on my fingers
I think I cut myself again

Before I drown in my thoughts
Id better put down my pen

I’ll be ok in the morning
The smudges of black will be there

The pictures I drew on my body

I can refresh or smear

Maybe one day I’ll find the right words
But for now I have to wait
for the stains to
disappear

M.A.A