My heart leaks drops of ink,
Black splotches that spread
Spirals of pain,
Grief,
Regret.

Layers of wounds
That grow wider
Until they taint
Those around me,
Splashing drops
Onto younger hearts,
Seeping inward
Until they leak again.

And yet
I keep trying,
Keep wading
Through the current,
Seeking solutions,
Awaiting dilution.

I am not one
To stay down,
To drown
Beneath the breakers.

When life crashes,
Bashes,
Shoving me below,
I dig my hands
Into the ground
And I push back.

I will always bleed
Drops of ink,
But some I reclaim
To rewrite
My story.

About this poem:

This is my first poem in 20 years. I wrote the first half after an extremely upsetting phone call I had with a family member. And after I gave voice to the pain seeping out of me, I was able to remember who I am innately: A fighter. This poem helped me find my strength again.

What's your story?

Have you ever expressed your feelings through poetry? Has doing so helped?

If you haven't tried expressing yourself through poetry, what's holding you back?

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Featured photo by Katrin Hauf on Unsplash