On dull, pale parchment
A diversity of inks
Black ink for pain
Red ink for blood
All turning into a dark shade of blue
So many pages of writing
Many of them appear to be blank
The papers crumble and scatter
Tear stained; empty pages fall to the floor
Torn and tattered testimonials and confessions
All seem to be lost in
Conversations with silence
Lonely words
Unspoken Phrases
All of this means nothing
Because no one will ever read it