His Journal Bled In A Black Red

Page after page, hand drawn images, shadows cast lowly visages
Never the two shall ever meet, though desire craves to greet
Sharing tids, of bits, of pieces, a puzzle begins to reason
The constant pounding as a boy, beating drums at deaths door
A shell covers his true form, hiding from a raging storm
Shades that fall, sight darkens, blackbird sings, the night harkens
His journal bled in a black red, thoughts exploding in his head
Page after page the final image, a moment frozen, captured in a message

These are the words that end a picture story
Created in the darkest colours, a black red only
Greys lightly caress, day’s that are blessed
Etched across a face, forever depressed
Lines that break tips, furiously scratching
Tearing the pages, fibres screaming
A secret held from roving eyes
Reveals a truth from constant lies
The joy of being lonely is a disease
It pains, it buckles the strongest knees
Repeats, reciting a prayer
The courage to stand square
Eye to eye in fear, bound us both
Pledge a loves never ending oath