In Shadows Of Ink

In Shadows of Ink

In the quiet corners of her restless mind,

A lonely poet weaves, searching for what’s kind.

With ink-stained fingers, she pours out her soul,

Each verse a soft whisper, a cry to be whole.

A kind-hearted girl, like the moon’s gentle glow,

She gives all her warmth, but few truly know.

The weight of their shadows, like chains on her heart,

Yet still, she stands ready, willing to play her part.

A mother to all, in their moments of need,

She nurtures their dreams, but forgets her own seed.

Oh, the beauty she carries, hidden deep in her chest,

Yet they take what they want, never sensing her quest.

In gardens of laughter, where the sunlight does dance,

She watches from far, yearning for but a chance.

For likes, not just use, to be seen in her light,

To be cherished, not borrowed, to feel truly bright.

So here’s to the poet, with courage unfurled,

May the ink of her heart paint the breadth of this world.

For in every soft line, she shatters the night,

A symphony rising, a phoenix in flight.

Let her words be the armor, her verses the key,

To unlock all the love that she longs to feel free.

In her stories of sorrow, may others awake,

To see her sweet spirit, to give, not just take.