Inked Sins

I crave a pen that bleeds my mind,
A torrent of thought, a hunger to find.
Obsessive whispers, a maddening drum,
To capture the chaos, till my fingers are numb.

I’d write on walls, on skin, on air,
A symphony raw, a heart laid bare.
Each word a brushstroke, a frantic plea,
To paint the portrait only I can see.

To bleed stories raw, unhinged, unfurled,
Nervous breakdowns etched on every word.
And you, oh you, a constant refrain,
A symphony unwritten, a chorus of pain.

My ink overflows, a love I can’t hide,
Though reason whispers, Step back from the tide.
But the hunger persists, a relentless fire,
To capture this storm, this tangled desire.

For even in failure, the fragments may gleam,
A whisper of dreams I can’t fully redeem.
To capture in verse, a truth yet unseen,
A symphony waiting, forever unwritten, between.