Tools of the Trade

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by twowolves80, Aug 6, 2016.

  1. twowolves80

    twowolves80 Darkness Incarnate; don't even bother

    The poison of purpose
    flows deep in my heart,
    life was eroded
    before it could start.

    The turning of phrase
    flows from my pen,
    extracting the toxin
    to cleanse me again.

    I steady the blade
    to bleed once more,
    adding to scars
    long healed before,

    with quill and ink
    it begins to flow,
    a crimson bloom
    in an undertow.

    Blackened and cold
    from venomous stain,
    the wound is made
    but I ignore the pain

    and put back the tools
    by which I bleed,
    for another day's work,
    another night's need.