Vis Vitalis

How much writing means to me.

I write with the pen as if it's my fingertip.

My blood is my ink, and i don't mind spilling it.

Every single word is like a bit of my soul leaving,

And I don't mind the rushing feeling as long as I’m breathing.

But keep in mind that the hollow feeling is misleading…

Kind of like flying high and your mind's reeling.

It’s hallucinating. It’s intoxicating.

I can't get enough even when I’m suffocating.

 

I’ll write until my heart spills out.

Even with no blood I’ll write until my tears give out.

The feeling of the warm salty regrets

Flowing down my fingertips so that my mind'll forget.

Each trail with its own breaking story and yet,

Once my eyes dry up, my thoughts still haven't left.

 

The blood is gone.

My tears have flown.

But i need more ink, i have to do more than think.

I have to write, so I’ll use my breath itself.

Invisible to you, but to me it couldn't be more clear.

What was once so blurry is so simple to hear.

What was once so far has never been so near.

The words are so vivid, even with lids shut i feel their presence...

The subtle whispers from my tongue make it known they're present.

 

So when I write, I’m free.

It’s like my sweet release.

I’d rather let it all out for the world to see,

Than to keep it all inside of me.

The words can't be sadistic,

Perhaps you just missed it.

Writing is my vitality and keeps me right in the head.

Taking my blood away is as good as being left for dead.

 

Author's Note

I try to portray a message in this; basically how important writing is to me. Please rate and help me get better.