Scribbles

If life was a paper
Mine’s been scribbled over,some by me, some by others,
Lend me, please, a blank sheet
Wish to write it again all over.

Scribbled pages,
Speaking of my cheers and rages,
Written emotions, written feelings
Suppressed under a mesh of ink,

Smudged papers,
Smelling of spilled liquor,
Blue and black, mixed together,

Here I am again, trying to mess
With time and tide
Through scribbles, a bit of past trying to hide,
The other bit, trying to recover.

Scribbles covering my eyes,
Mists surround, fog bound is my head,
Waiting for the wind to blow over,
Make me feel clear and sober. 

Diaries full of blue and black, 
Tired of writing all my rants, 
Bins are full from crumbled pages
A smile waiting to be put on, since ages.

I’ve seen enough of black and blue, 
Where have gone the other hues? 
When will I get to see the other colors? 
Even if I do, who’ll paint me again all over? 

~ Words above Swords ~

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