Ink for blood, paper for bones
It’s crushing when real-life drama crashes into the middle of writing a beautiful story.
The heart cannot tell the hand to write beautifully when it’s just trying to keep pumping.
Maybe good stories are made like this battling anxiety when the fog lifts once air returns to my lungs when breath becomes possible.
A tiny flicker of fire happens a smoldering ember, waits in silence, day after day, months, a year.
Then I remembered
My soul always craved for fire I cant waste more time to admire this beautiful stories that have ink for blood, paper for bones, and oh the dearest memories of my midnight songs that were always meant for the masked ones…
By Theblacksuntheory
Art by Jim Lively "Writers Block", Acrylic Painting










