Poetic Bends

Once the Ink Dries

Once the ink dries

the paper, I fall through

Once the voices cry

in a world that I once knew

I will come up towards

a white lined page

and wait for the words

to bleed into themselves

Once the ink dries

I find myself solid and drifting

towards the edge of darkness

and glory

Once the voices cry

out and loud

I converge into my other selves




for the ink to dry


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