#freeverse #poetry
THE BLEEDING PEN
I do not write with ink anymore,
but with the marrow of my memory.
Each word is a wound reopened,
Every line, a blue vein, laid bare.
This page is stark, white, and empty.
It demands I write with honesty.
I will extricate a script of scars,
a lost map of sacred moments.
My pen is no mere tool but a blade!
Etching grief into English grammar,
carving elegies into the still silence,
spilling red blood upon the white page.
The red of remembrance bleeds,
upon the unforgiving in its rage.
Yet my heart forgives so I can let go,
of those truths that refuse to clot.
©🦊VixenOfVerse, 2025
VIXEN of VERSE 
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