When a writer bleeds

Sharing this. A powerful poem!

The Musing Quill

her world shrinks
as faces cease to exist
days lack brightness
nights miss the glow

walks become rambles
blank are the thoughts
no place is desirable
just she and herself

behind shut doors
are windows closed
and the solitary corner
beckoning her

not a speck of light
in the gloomy room
except a flickering
lamp at the table
she bleeds on

walls see her drown
in a gush of emotions
secrets they hold
that none will ever know

whimper to words
sorrow to scribbles
and yet another story
is about to be born

~~~~~~~
Asha Seth

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Steven Leo Campbell

I am an artist and indie-author. I draw and paint wildlife, draw cartoons, and write mostly paranormal fiction featuring Vree Erickson and a strange Pennsylvania town called Ridgewood.

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