Is this what it takes to make art?
To pull my beating heart out of my chest?
As I write, the blood from my heart is used as ink
These words I write are more than just thoughts
They are derived from my very soul
The hurting and healing at a constant tug of war
Battle they do
Whichever one wins in the end
No one shall ever know
However, I will remain with this pen in my hand
Until every last drop of blood is put on paper