Rosie Metaphor

Bleeding With Ink


I glide



On the paper

Never thinking I might hit a bump


Precious colorful ink bleeds through the parchment

The rush

Of my heart

I once thought I had control

I was used to my natural beat

Now I found the truth

My truth was not real

I once thought markers where steady, safe, and predictable

But it bled through my paper

Leaving a stain

Markers are permanent

Same as my heart