A pen to the vein
And write these words in my blood
So I can't forget to live what you told me
And I can't forget that you wrote my soul

A pen to the vein
Because I'd bleed ink anyways
If this world was metaphorical
And who said it wasn't?

If I wrote these words into my skin
I'd know it meant I wasn't as broken as I am
And maybe I could pretend I wasn't destruction
Disguised as a girl, who's
Disguised as a poet, who's
Pretending she has a real weapon
And not just this pen
and a vein
And these broken dreams

Because really, what do dreams sell for these days?
Surely a fistul of falling stars
And a pinch of my dignity?
Surely a poem?
Surely a pen mightier than my shattered will to live?

My soul was a poem



But I sold it before I could read the last line.