Rhia Madison Thomer Poet Free verse

Inspiration

I cut.
I cry.
I write.
I bleed my art.
My art bleeds me.
What is it without me?
For I am nothing without it.
My beauty lies in open cut veins
bleeding fragile life across the floor
vexing my mind confessions of secrets
caged inside, set free in that moment.
And the words bleed from my fingers
across the pages of my poetry, so
I dip this quill in my own blood,
and I feel those words there 
waiting to be discovered,
pressed to paper.
I write.
I cry.
I cut.

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Skylar Valles December 31, 2010 at 12:43 PM Like you said when they find your body there will be ink dripping from your body and blood from your type writer. Another well written poem. I am realizing now your art and the beauty of it. You will always be written in my history book as a true poet of a unique art

Audonus Taylor December 20, 2010 at 12:18 AM Glad to hear from you! I look forward to future conversations as well. I love this piece. Anything about writing and passion will keep my attention. Your imagery is amazing in this selection in case you didn't already know. I am a fan Madison, truly.