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Something I’ve Become

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Dark days and bright nights.

That’s the life of a sorrowful poet. 

Away from the darkening daylight…

into the light of the night I rejoice!

Night owl, indeed! 

I’ve risen like the full moon

and descended like the sun.

My soul bleeds ink onto the page.

And bleeding this sorrowful soul has!

My pen transcribes the distortions 

I’m cursed with… something 

that has no physical form,

formless as water…

as poison…

like this curse itself!

One that flows through me,

taking the shape of my body.

And becoming this curse I have!

Something I’ve become…

something I’ll pen…

something…

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