Inked This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

February 15, 2018
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I sit on a bench and think
I have bettered myself
I have
I sit with eyes forward 
And only so
As I look toward what 
Will be
So I why am I back on the brink

Of something so forbidden
For so many reasons
As I feel the imprint of love 
Like iron bars
But am fixated on the flowers
That floated my way
I am creating a chink

In this armor of who-we-are
I like broken too much
Tired of a steadily ticking clock

I feel the need
To make things fall out of alignment
I watch temptations slink

Through once-bright plants
Who's barbs I can now see
But what is real

And what is me imagining?
I will not fall back to where I was
It will not end well for anyone
But I sit on my bench

And whisper my most confidential things
Through all I truly have- 

Ink

Black and smooth like the thoughts in my mind
Let me tell you what only I know






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