I write poetry that is marvelously melodious and significantly sweet.
It is all the better though when read between the lines.
Some are words of anger, of sadness, and of defeat.
This writing is best when taken in stride.
For mine is that of a poets heart.
I will write a tragedy sick and twisted,
one of war and strife.
Filled with dead decaying faces and opened veins bleeding out.
I have to keep scribbling on this paper violently saturated.
These words are black bubbling blood.
Staining these pages as I...