Love Quest

I'm on a quest that shall make me subject of my own demise.

Blood slows, lungs give out, heart stops..

What is the purpose, why does my mind feel this bluntness..

The pen is but a mighty weapon concealed in my deepest thoughts,

The ink bleeds out my fingertips in an excruciating fashion,

Bursting and blistering the vital veins, as words lash themselves across the page.

What shall rise out of this, surely time will pass. Nothing I do can last forever.

So how can one make these meaningless words count?

They cannot be guaranteed a home.

Especially among the heart of someone loved already by another..