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The Ink-first three lines inspired by syoriane

This is but a flesh wound,
A spill of ink,
On the pages of my life,
Its done,
Its over,
The ink is gone,
Nothing to write,
Nothing to live for,
The pages remain empty,
My life meaningless,
My story ends here,
With such an,
Insignificent event,
The pen is dry,
It will not write,
Not for me,
But here lies hope,
Not in me,
But in those meant to write,
For their stories to be heard,
For the writers,
Whose stories must be told.