Library
Immortal
Immortal
1 min
145
I tried to wash off the ink
Stuck to my palm
It's the pain flowing out of my pen
In the shape of words.
The words of the heart
Of hurt, brutality, and bitterness.
On the white surface of the paper
Creating many a story.
The impression of events
Written today
Will turn golden tomorrow
The memories be cherished by many.
My penning skills will be dissected
The soul of the story analysed in detail.
The philosopher will look for the philosophy
And the psychologist analyse my emotional state.
The linguist will analyse the sentence
And the poets will search for romance.
Souls of my story will live on after my death
Immortalized by paper and ink.
