Scribbler ink at midnight

I write up,
when my ink want to penned,
and my soul crie out to loud speaks,
then i delineates, by my words,
which i compose via my inner scribbled ink,
i inscribe by the luster of voice’s soul,
which plays, a essential role,
of the different phases of all,
the deep pain of inner,
and emotions of the personage.
where i indite, when my soul feels to penned,
this is the way; where my inks reach,
at the place of that emotions of zone.
there is so much of tone and tint of own,
word hues into deep wrapped within.
to describe to more,
the voice of roar. the reason,
haven’t need any seasons,
it generates inside in as a rain of storm,
as an ink scribbled on the page it bleeds eternal of the core,
deep down inside in,
nobody knows what I feels,
me and my pages have harmony to write,
whom i, it feels.
this is the safest place where my ink bleeds.
and it shines throughout the night,
it becomes more illuminates,
when i write up on my pages.

Β©uma_undefined

40 thoughts on “Scribbler ink at midnight

  1. The profound intimacy of your poetry makes it perilous because it gets so far under the skin, into the skin. For poems are not, as people think, simply emotions (one has emotions early enough)β€”they are experiences. I welcome the beauty your poetry provides.
    Thank you for visiting my blog. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

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