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Bleeding ink
Fooled by his will,
as he looked at the way up the hill,
cursed by freedom,
sanity laughed at him.
Visited by ghosts, of days forgone,
a wilting past,
held fast to his slate.
Kissed by fate,
not losing his gaze,
stuck to the light that glimmered as he wondered through the maze.
In that small room he had built,
there lit a fire, he held it fast to his heart.
© Panducollections&co
as he looked at the way up the hill,
cursed by freedom,
sanity laughed at him.
Visited by ghosts, of days forgone,
a wilting past,
held fast to his slate.
Kissed by fate,
not losing his gaze,
stuck to the light that glimmered as he wondered through the maze.
In that small room he had built,
there lit a fire, he held it fast to his heart.
© Panducollections&co
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