From the victories won
To the battles lost,
From the merry-making dawn
To the hearts turned to frost,
There lies a story untold...
A story behind the bleeding pages.
For soon, the truth shall unfold.

Many are the stories the pages of this book hold.
To some, it may forever remain gabbage
To the understanding heart, it is an unrepairable damage.

This was once a beautiful open book
With pages so golden
Calling out to the broken,
The weary and the hooked
Ready to absorb the indelible marks of its writers' ink
Be it red, blue, green or pink
No matter how terrible some inks may stink
The ever ready pages took them all in.

With memories shared
Heart's contents laid bare
Painful thoughts across the pages spread,
All its writers finally left
With their satisfaction calibrated across their foreheads

Oh! Those were once beautiful golden pages
Suddenly stained with other people's rages
That may last, forever, unto the end of ages.

With no one left in sight to read
No one ready to hear its own cry and plea
The book carries sadly, its own sorrowful tales,
Lacking joy, looking pale.
Finally sealed with an uncrackable code,
The bleeding set in.
To the naked eye,
Peeping from the first and the last sheets,
It bears the resemblance of a bookmark.
To the gifted who wish to see,
Seeping through those pages...
It is the blood dripping
The sadness filling
The pain gripping
The last bit of hope
Slipping off the ropes.
In those two sheets
Hid
The bleeding pages.

To whosoever may crack the code,
Unto him this book will forever hold.
Read out those two pages
To both the young and the old.
Rewrite its pages
In Block letters, Cursive or Bold.
And gather together the children
To them, let this story again be told.

© Poetically_Ash
#Writcopoetry #BleedingPages