Ink Blots Of Life
By Sotto Poet
Blacks and blues, a cruel kindness,
A paradox that leaves us blindless
Words that wound but also heal
A mix of pain and love we feel.
Ink blots spill onto the page,
A canvas of our inner rage,
Delight and sorrow are intertwined.
A reflection of the human mind.
Each stroke is a story to be told.
Secrets are hidden yet unfold
In the ink, we find release.
A way to cope, a sense of peace.
The blots become a crafting art.
A glimpse of what’s within our hearts
A reminder of the ups and downs,
And how we wear our battle crowns.
So let the ink spill on the page.
Let it be a cathartic stage,
For in the blots, we find our way,
To live again, another day.
Copyright © by the owner.
