Poetry
Spilled outLike blood onto the paper
With the darkest of inks
And the deepest of thoughts
Sometimes the thoughts
You wish to explain
Come out in words
And that is why there is poetry
A key to every door
So that you can open
Every opportunity
And embrace them
A broken heart
That bleeds your love
Across the paper
Whether lost or present
A brush against a canvas
Of purity
And serenity
And sometimes death
Spilled out
Like blood onto the paper
With the darkest of inks
And the deepest of thoughts
To create
A life
In poetry
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