Poetry
Compose
Compose is a strange word for this Making my own evidence Scars on my heart take shape Words on my page bleed out No rhyme or reason Only the arcane
Inklings
Hide
whipped by @TriangleToll
Poetry
Death
The end is not something to be controlled She is someone who reveals herself Whether young or old We cross our arms and stomp our feet Turn our heads Resist The end will never go away No matter how much we insist The end arrives Within her cloak Unifies all
Inklings
Yomi's poems
||poem for ikachan, sincerely, from yomi. sometimes i feel like a cracked bowl leaking ink, just like you. but maybe cracked things are still enough to hold something— a bit of light, a few drops of hope, a single trembling flower pushing through black soil. the dark hums louder when
Poetry
The curse of endless ink
Once upon a time a shaggy inky cap mushroom dreamed of belonging to the treetops. This desire set them apart from other inky caps, so the sun cursed it with endless ink. Ordinarily, a mushroom would start to dissolve into ink once it reached maturity. Eventually the entire cap would