Ink on Paper


Abstract concepts, ideas, usually jumbled

Pen to paper

Ideas become stanzas, emotions become words of expression

Untangling my own confusion by using syllables

Short lines

Long lines that bring one to ponder the meaning of life and contemplate existence

No rules, just words

Words that explain humanity, even just a small piece of it

The ability to communicate complex ideas through a short collection of letters

Is enginuity at its finest

Once one begins to express themselves through words

It’s an addiction

Late nights spent searching for the perfect words

What am I trying to say?

What do I want to say?

Still a mystery.

I try to speak without talking

Using written text to explain myself without having to utter a single sound

Yawning at my screen, still thinking


For the words that seem far away

But right at my fingertips all the same


In my mind there’s enough ideas to fill a universe

The difficult part is finding where to put them

On paper

Or leave them where they float, out in a place without oxygen

Pen to paper

It’s a difficult thing

I can’t seem to find the words I want to say

I just want to be memorable, meaningful

A vain feeling

A feeling I wish would go away

All humans are saturated with themselves all of the time,


It’s impossible to escape from our ever-present thoughts

The pen to paper just transfers some.

They never disappear, they travel

To others, saturate them with my feelings

Ink on paper never stays

Words are dangerous

They can cause some to rise, and others to fall

And never get back up



It’s in my head, on my heart

It stains them with its meaning

It makes me think, it makes me feel

The part of me rarely seen

Ink is dangerous

And beautiful

Ink is the substance of words

It’s their blood, their life-force

And humans devour it

They never get enough of the simplicity, the complexity

It’s why I write

Not just poetry

But essays


I bring voices to life that people have never heard before

But they will hear them for the rest of their life

Ink is permanent

It never leaves

It affects my


This poem is about: 
Our world


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