Affinity for Black Ink

Like the wings of an angel, you allow me to soar

On to utopian universes and entire new worlds.  Rusted

Gears crank in my brain as obscure

Orders of midnight letters jump off of the stark white page to

Light the darkness which plagues my soul,

Elegantly assembled as they flow from the mind of their creator.

Perhaps they rush with the blood in my veins, determining the status my mortality while

Silently coursing through my body as I

Yearn to swing life away once again.

This poem is about: 
Me

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