In This World,
Hath man e'er will'd his own will?
Hath the genial face grow agen in age or otherworldly experience?
Why hath Man wield his sword before his word?
Why, Man must shield the wounds his words wield.
Why hath Man cradle his own wounds in the cocoon of the worlds's cruelty?
Why, Man must man-handle his own begrudged drudgery.
Man must descend to fight his inner transcendental entities,
For Man to ascend beyond the outer transcendental obscenities.
Wilt man e'er fight f'more than the thrill?
Before man will only go for the kill.
K.M.P
3//7//2026
When there is a lot to handle in life,
And catastrophes going on inside my mind..
I turn inwards, seeking for a sign.
The mountain of failures piled high
Like a castle, look me dead in the eye.
Could’ve beens and should’ve beens;
Written all over them like splattered ink on walls.
I retrospect and reflect on them.
Not pushing them away,
Merely trying to hold them in place.
The failures that once intimidated me,
Tell me tales of bravery and resilience.
They narrate the story of a battle well fought;
The scars etched in my heart;
Portray the image of a warrior,
Who never surrendered.
It is on days like this;
That I bleed ink.
The veins cut open,
Like a wound waiting to heal.
The only difference is that,
They bleed ink.
I bleed ink because it is the only way I thrive.
I put up a fight with my caricature of words,
That one cannot easily survive.
I bleed ink because it makes me feel alive.
I prefer colouring with markers,
But they all bleed through the papers.
The sky has forgotten its mercy tonight,
And drips with a sorrow of steel—
No silver of stars, no whisper of light,
Only the wound we can feel.
The clouds are heavy with rusted rain,
They weep like a blade drawn thin,
Every drop is a quiet pain
That settles beneath the skin.
The wind does not sing as it used to sing,
It trembles, uncertain and cold—
As though it remembers a gentler spring
The heavens no longer hold.
Oh, where is the hush of a kinder blue,
The soft, forgiving air?
For iron has stained the evening through,
And grief is everywhere.
Yet still in the dark, though the sky may scar,
A heart dares quietly to start—
For even beneath the cruelest star,
There lingers a human heart.
Time may heal wounds,
but you heal life.
No medicine, no exercise—
just your words, your love.
Like a needle leading thread
through the skin,
your love pains me,
yet defines my life.
My eyes may bleed,
my mouth run dry,
but your love and touch
satisfy my heart,
filling my world with dreams.
Every moment of tears, pain, and sacrifice
brings my broken pieces together.
After you bow to say sorry—
eyes on me, arms around my waist—
I cannot avoid the pain of having you,
because it comes with living hope.
My body is ready, skin to heart,
for your heartbreaks.
I need them for my soul
to mend, to heal,
to stitch your heart to mine.
My happiness buried 6 feet deep beneath the pain, beyond my reach
6 feet just like your body
Watching your coffin go down in slow motion
As though clinging to the hope that someone might stop it from going down
As though someone might wake you from the dead
I bleed
A part of me got buried with you that day
And yet I still remember you with a heart full of warmth
A movie in my head of all the happy moments
With a stream of tears flowing down my eyes and a smile
I remember how you used to be my alarm in the morning
Making sure that I don’t get to school late
How you would make ends meet
Break the barriers, just so that I have transport money for school
How you would wake up early in the morning to fetch your grant money
Walk past a few shops see shoes and some T-shirts then you’d go “mhmm my granddaughter will love this”
I will continue to remember you with a smile
It may hurt but I’m glad that God spared you the pain of this cruel world
Finally, the beeping pain that came from your wounds has calmed
You are resting, peacefully I hope
We come seeking the sunlight that seeps within our skin.
We come time and time again, picking the wound, slow to bleed.
We come with nothing feeling real past the point of infection
We come open, gaping,
waiting to scar
First we bruise
to see the proof of our love in intricate colors
A way to feel
Some wounds need open air
to heal
Retracing all my steps
Still looking for the last breadcrumb
Trying to find my way back
From who I have become
Look up at the daylight
Thinking it will leave a clue
Shine a light on all my mistakes,
On what I thought I knew
I think i wanna go home
But I cant remember why
All the rooms there are haunted
All my plans go awry
So I'll walk until my feet bleed,
"Leave your shoes at the door".
Red-clay colored head to bone
Always leave me looking for more
You're a drummer Sylvia,
the carnage of your life
lies in open stock
for anyone to buy.
You sell us death in poems
bereft of love; you borrow
our breath to line the
hollow of your soul.
The pain's not sweet Sylvia
neither were your thirty years.
If you and Elizabeth Browning
should, by chance, meet
in that starless void
of heaven or hell,
speak to her in flowers
Sylvia, red roses bleed well.
Verse 1.
A Closed Mouth Catches No Flies
Silence is a strong shield we must learn
Some fights are not worth any bruise
to the soul
You learn this lesson much too late
After all the words explode
Cut like sharp glass so deep
Tongue is set on fire
Mouth shut tight
Wisdom
Bleeds
Verse 2
All That Glitters Ain't Gold
She wears her fake joy like golden wedding
rings
Smiles for the camera, poses for the whole
world
But when all the spotlights fail
Her shine is all on loan,you see
Truth pawned for social likes
Empty and sparkling
Diamond tears fall
Broken
Gone.
Blood is Thicker Than Wi-Fi
The family chat group full of ghosts now
Missed calls unread are just unseen hearts
They say they love you online, bruh
Real hugs require the air
And airtime is quite cheap
Love is data free
No network
If it's
Real
Believe me, I would give you the world,
if only I could carry mine.
Want to show love,
but my hands have been bleeding for a too long time.
To lie, I had to wear a disguise
until it was bleeding too.
My heart has never stopped aching,
not even because of you.
I promise you will receive the love you deserve one day,
maybe from another soul,
or maybe mine when all the pain goes away.
My safe place is the person whose hug I miss
a little extra sometimes,
whose weight I carry gladly, as if it were mine.
It's not just empathy —
it's the understanding: we love, but it hurts sometimes.
I bleed when you're hurt,
when you aren’t near;
the presence I miss feels so real.
The melody of the voice I want to hear,
not just accept that you aren’t here.
A broken heart has no hole, yet it bleeds,
So time will heal the wound your hatred breeds.
Earth bloodies the moon
its face drowned in severed veins—
harangued in the sky
for all to see Sun's disdain
in being eclipsed usurped
The heavens lament,
scattering rust into dusk,
for the blood red burns
when what's seen is black and white—
space smeared with wrath set ablaze.
A blood moon warns us
every orbit has peril,
in being dethroned
by an unyielding eclipse,
tainting our shadow of self
We Bleed Red
If I were a king or queen you would notice me, and respect me no matter my race. If I had riches you would befriend and talk behind my back not to my face. You see me as a different color and not as a person with faith, with thoughts and feelings. You see me walking down the street disheveled and broken, without a thought you don't stop, you close your eyes and walk away wishing they would all go away. You see me standing there alone in my burrca covered from head to toe not seeing me as a individual but seeing me as a threat. You see me standing on the corner playing my guitar hoping to make money so I can eat, you see me as a freak not an artist. You see me standing on the street holding hands with my brother and sister’s of all different races and faiths, but you don't see that we all bleed Red as a human race. From King's to Queen’s, from working man to the vagrant on the street, from religious faith to no faith at all, we all have one thing in common we all bleed Red.
Written by Tammy Lester
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