Bleeding Ink

I bleed the ink of subtle allegories.
Intentions masked behind metaphors and stories.

These cries all fall on deaf ears.
Lessons lost to time and Forgotten over years.

They read our pretty lyrics but it inspired nothing.
So naïve to think I could make you feel something.

Standing tall on five foot stages.
Angry words and pretty faces.
Spotlights follow every single move.

I close my eyes and the show goes on.
My words, a burning symphony.
The crowd all sings along.

They want to take the passion in my veins.
And bottle it as a commodity.
I am not some cheap novelty.

Blood red ink is seeping through the seams.
You’ll never know what this means.
But by the time you read this,
Ill be gone.