A Scratch of Ink
Will the final poem you scribe,
be a blue draped sonnet.
or water colored lullaby...
Will it whisper a million lies?
Unveiling the seeds of a soul
sprouting timeless gilded wings.
or will it smolder in the mouth of trolls...
Will it leave the blueprint of your being?
or won't it mean much of anything?
Hopefully the soul blood sparkles.
Within that final scratch of ink.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2018
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