Inky Wisdom

Art doesn’t become a masterpiece because of magic; only after our elbows are raw, our brains mined to the core and our hearts swollen.

Art by Gukardi

Art by Gukardi


The shredding has begun again,

I breathe: 1…2…3…pause, but

flow gates have opened to

unabated scorn, contempt,

secrets of a monthly guile

left me with despicable remarks,

if only I can contain it within.

This time, I say, will be normal,

as I writhe in unwarranted tears

and futilely berate chemicals

to not let the tender, pure swan

transgress into the impaired harpy.


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