Ink And Catharsis

I can't fly with my heavy wing

It carries a dark thought

From all the battles that my heart fought

The heaviest feather from my wing

Is now my quill

That will help my heart sing

My heart now spills

When ink trickles down

The nib of the quill

My dark ink is my seeds

That bloom into a flower whenever the ink from my heart bleeds

My ink is dark

Because my soul absorbs every color in the hope of finding a spark

My feather might wither

But the words it writes will

Continue to stay bitter

My ink might dry

But my words will never lie

And my wing will always try

The paper and I have a spark

Both of us have a past that is dark

The paper has been cut from its bark

Every drop of ink sets me to free

My words are my flowers that bloom

But at the cost of a tree

It is cathartic. Cathartic with a cost.

Catharsis with a cost

Is another wing lost