Soul Cries Out

A Gothic take, on why I write.

Scattered words lay

Upon the page

In a random order

Before your eyes.

Trying to express

An idea

Or an experience

Foreign to you.

Always

With questioning doubts

Whether or not

It succeeds.

Never mind

The pain bleeding out

With each stroke

Of the pen.

As tears fall

Soaking the sheet

Below.

Smearing

The blood red ink

Into illegibility.

As if

The pen's nib

Was dipped

Into a slashed wound

For ink.

Author's Note

For me, my writing is a form of healing release, of the trauma, I have endure during my life.

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

Trying to express
An idea
Or an experience
Foreign to you.
This lamentation is shared I think by most of us who write to attempt to ease our pain. Well penned.

[therisa]

Thank you. Each poem is one less need to vent and cry.