• INK

    A pale skin so soft,

    his hair a swampy blue,

    eyes so obsidian black,

    and heart of mercy askew.

    We met, he shook my hand,

    with bone and flesh of water,

    a thick liquid full of hate

    an arm that witnessed slaughter.

    A beast and boy alike,

    a dream so slowly scattered,

    as cool and cold as ink.

    and only solid when it mattered.


    A rebel to the queen of hearts.

    an amethyst sword on his side

    to slash away the beasts of pain

    and always have a place to hide.

    His brother a mouse,

    his sister a fairy

    there's times when he forgets,

    only so much fantasy he can carry.

    Lost in a world of regrets,

    death is such a common sight

    the innocent lose their freedom

    the birds no longer take flight.


    But in a world of constant fear,

    and in a time of hate

    the hatter's laugh and the Cheshire's grin

    take part in the debate.

    A war of freedom

    a fight for love

    a battle to conquer

    and all of the above.

    But such a strength to go through it all,

    a transparent veil of tatters

    He can choose to be solid if he wants

    but only when it matters.