Yes I'm black ink

that in the way makes a mistake and stumble

But none other ink of any color can get in my way

or in the lines of my book

Yes I'm black ink that stripe semicolons

but also I'm liquid that shines-writes accurate and beautiful

Just as I am liquid that also pours its pain

if it hurts me a corrector without specialty

Yes I'm so of strong appearance

that if I write like a footprint

My mistake it is marked

But like this I was created so much that if I write with joy

I'm a little more efficient than a coal

The mine ink that spilled its color lived

Stripe itself and stays like that

not as a hurtful coal that it is cleared without writing for life

without the same joy

Yes I am black ink that in words more talks

But until the end even though runs the last drop

I am the ink that draw thoughts

Yearnings

Failures but with much wanting more love

I'm the drop that spilled the pain

Of the Ink of my soul always written on a why

Yes I am the same black ink who suffered with every step on my way

that although in my way any contradiction

will stop of the different color to mine

I will continue advancing

Because by that color I already stumbled and passed many times

that's why my color turn different

Yes I am the black ink

that writes the same voice of a drawing of a bird

to fall and get up more strongly marked to be painted 

but I'll always be the one that stranded which reached

to the last row of the life of its book.

-Jonatan Vega