I’ve felt the cut from broken love
kept warm with frozen blood
shut off, refused to open-up
but nothing ever hurt as much
as an empty page.
I’ve been kicked and hit
rejected and labelled a misfit
nobody around to mix with
but loneliness didn’t exist
until an empty page.
I couldn’t hear my heartbeat
try and feel the pulse on my sleeve
woeful, how hard must it be
until I painted colour onto this sheet
and filled the page.


Share your thoughts

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.