To Be Stained In Ink

By Sayesha Atolia

I want to be stained in ink,

To drown in the pool of blue l,

 Devoid of blood my exhausted eyes,

Stare at what is splattered on paper.

Yet within these lifeless Orbs,

A flicker of satisfaction lingers,

Maybe in despair there is joy,

In suffering, life.

My trembling hands release their pain,

I chase an endless dream, 

No boundaries no destination, 

The Journey in itself is a celebration.

My feet are glued in the constant loop,

Is this a hidden blessing which I'm meant to find?

A wound that reopens,

Gash that cuts deep, 

Blood rushing in streams,

My words are my only escape.

The rustling of paper silences, 

Mourning in soiled red,

In whispers of air,

Thoughts and tales float,

Blending realms again.

Oh how I wish the blurry frames in my mind could be printed on paper, 

Would they put my words to shame?

Still a part of me will always remain seated 

 In the surreal silence,

Buried deep in the countless places where my poetry flows making me feel seen again.

By Sayesha Atolia