ink

Ink slashed apon this page

my poet’s quill dipped in rage

 

My story it does tell

as I lull you to sleep with my poets spell

 

As soft as the velvet in Pandora’s box

as sharp as jagged rocks

 

Of death’s sweet kiss

of sweet wine and bliss

 

Stories of battles fought hard and won

of winters rage and the setting sun

 

Born of a sorceress brew

are the stories that I bring to you

 

Fables of dragon’s caves and whispers just out of sight

the rustling of leaves and the Asp’s bite

 

As loud as war drums

intoxicating as pirate rum

 

Stories of love and hate

my beating heart on a plate

 

The moments in between the moments when all is lost

fighting the good fight at any cost

 

Your now living in a poet’s dream

experiencing only things that I have seen

 

 

 

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