My life flows like
ink
overturned upon
A blank page
No rhyme or reason
It has no purpose
But my eyes are drawn
To the black liquid
just the same
I watch
As it consumes the
paper
I try to make sense
of its pattern
Though it makes no
sense at all
I glance out the
window
As the storm moves in
The wind wails
And the rain begins
to fall
The moon whispers my
name
Raising my head, I
ask
Did you see my tears,
Glistening in your
soft light?
But the dark clouds
roll in
And I'm alone again
The night, now
as black as the stain
upon my paper
There's a slope to my
desk
And the ink has
reached
The paper's
boundaries
Slowly, I turn the
page sideways
The ink is halted
Suspended, confused
But only for a moment
And then it changes
directions
And flows once more
Looking for freedom
Crossing old paths
And finding new ones
It falters, and ever
so
Slightly goes off
course
Seeking direction
To escape its
confinement
Leaving behind
Some of its mass
As it searches for its way
blindly in the sea of
white
Momentum lost
But it moves
Onward until it
Reaches the edge once
more
Freedom in sight
Using most of its energy
It tries to break past the
boundary
And I turn the page
once more
Slowly, it falls back
Now just a drop,
small and weak
No longer able to
find new paths
So it trudges down
old ones
But even this
Takes its toll
And drains its
substance
Until there is nothing left
And slowly the ink
dries
Forever in time, just
a small
Stain among the paths
of its life
Within the page's
boundaries
At first glance
The ink pattern
Seems a mess
A waste of a blank
page
And then the moon
Shines once more
And beauty can be
seen
Amid Intricate
patterns
I wonder what paths
It would've chosen
If it had only been
stronger
And had not lost so
much of itself
More white than black
Is left on the page
And I find sadness
In paths untaken
The page's edges
Had become prison
walls
Its blank areas
merely
Dreams unfulfilled
My life flows like
ink
overturned upon
a blank page
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