Spilled Ink

We hold a nuke in our chests.

It leaks toxic power,

and so we write.

We hold pain in our bones.

It brings darkness,

And so we write.

To the void, to a few we write.

Restless are our nights.

Manifesting into words we pour onto pages.

We are the ink.

We cope with the universe's infinites.

It shoots arrows through us,

And so we write.

What is gone, we hold to.

Those that die, we miss.

And so we write.