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Ink of the Heart  

 

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What I once thought was my in spilling over into my heart, Was my pen dipping into my heart. An ink well full of tears, That has become my ink.

With each pierce of my pen into my heart,
The pen takes a drop. Writing with such a flow.

Till one day there will be no more ink
To be drawn from the well. 

Once the ink of tears are gone, There will be no more crying, No more tears flowing.

The heart becomes dry, And cold.
And eventually turns to stone,
Never to feel or love again.

I pray the well never runs dry, As a heart of stone, is a lonely place. Somewhere not even love can dwell.

Our tears are of joys and laughter’s, heartbreak and pain. And without our tears, We can not write
Upon the walls of our heart, the memories of our lives.
---Tatty---