A Poet's Possession

A Poet's Possession
I weep ink
I bleed ink
I speak ink
I hear ink

I sweat ink
Beading from my whole person
I scream ink
As it fills my desperate lungs

I weep ink
And
It's with these tears
That the page
Is watered
With my passion,
Sorrow, and soul

I bleed ink
And
It's with this blood
That the page
Is stained
With me
All of me

I speak ink
And
It's with these sounds
That their ears
Are ringing
With my words
Their message

I hear ink
And
It's with that call
That the poem
Is formed
From my heart
My honesty

My vulnerability

Ah, at times
My own words perplex me
Ink is not a language
To be mastered
Ink is a language
To be loved

One's devotion to the truth
Will be rewarded
With ink's influence
Flowing from one's pen