Blood

The pages are empty,

and yet,

they still taunt me with invisible words...

The words that never left my mind because,

I was to afraid, or to proud to let them out.

Words that would change the world,

and yet they still taunt me.

They clog my mind,

What if I had a stroke,

Because so many words built up inside.

That I never let out.

The blessed blank page stares at me with its pearly complexion,

Waiting for a drop of blood to bring it to life.

It taunts me,

In ways you could never imagine,

Partly because you were never faced with it,

That empty page devoid of original sin.