the ink that bleeds from my heart

We are all hidden warriors

born from the depth of the stars,

and even though our battles are different,

we emerge with all the same scars.

I fight mine with the words I can't say,

etching words of prose into stone.

yelling into the fierce nothingness,

and hoping I am not alone.

I pen my thoughts into flower petals,

and watch quietly as they fall,

leaving me with only a bud,

ready again, to brave it all.

because every time I bleed,

I use the ruby flow as ink,

to write upon this paper,

all the things I think.

I look fondly to the words I've written.

knowing they have loved me once.

and so they will love me again,

even with torn and battered fronts.

Now scars and words alike,

serve as a tapestry from afar,

not just a reminder of your strength

but a map of who you are.