Words {A Poem}

Today I have a poem that I wrote a few months ago. I probably wrote it after midnight, as is frequently the case with literary genius. (That's not a fact, don't quote me on it, thanks.) Also, please don't take that as me saying this poem is literary genius, because it probably isn't, but it's a poem and that's what counts.

Words

Shiny black lines

Words

Covering the pages

The story of your life

The words you wish you never said

The lines you wish you never wrote

You mark them out

Red ink drips like blood across the black

But as you do it, new words appear

"Look what she has done!"

They scream

The ink drips over your hands

The words keep writing themselves

You rip the pages

And the shiny black lines pour red

The words write themselves onto your eyes

All you see is black

Life keeps writing.

This poem is about only seeing your past mistakes, regretting them, and not letting yourself move on.
Bonus fun fact: The pen photo was the original first line of the poem.
Do you ever write poetry? What do you think of mine?