#1
The sky was more drenched
than the ground, black as
the ink I spilled into it last night,
forgetting how to spell and
create textures with my mind,
with my pen.

So I threw out the ink, and
rewrote everything in marker,
of every shade, and had a dream,
I was a mountain,
I was larger than life,
and woke up, like the sky,
more drenched than the ground.

Hopes and dreams are for the weak,
I wrote over and over,
forgetting everything else,
forgetting my life,
giving myself up to
the shade of blue in my hand.
Hopes and dreams are for the weak.
#3
Quote by inthegreyx
The sky was more drenched
than the ground, black as
the ink I spilled into it last night,
forgetting how to spell and
create textures with my mind,
with my pen.

I love love love the line breaks here and the how you used them to make the sentences flow beautiful. I am hooked. It's how I dream of writing like. My only complaint is that "with my pen" felt a bit too short in length to end this stanza on.

So I threw out the ink, and
rewrote everything in marker,
of every shade, and had a dream,
I was a mountain,
I was larger than life,
and woke up, like the sky,
more drenched than the ground.

I don't quite understand how the 3rd stan relates to the preceding ones.

Hopes and dreams are for the weak,
I wrote over and over,
forgetting everything else,
forgetting my life,
giving myself up to
the shade of blue in my hand.
Hopes and dreams are for the weak.

powerful. I like how you alluded to "hopes and dreams are for the weak" being repeated, and then actually repeating it physically in the poem.



I like your writing style, it's very controlled, I can almost feel the words.

I have a piece if you click on the link on the word "stare" on my sig, if you'd like to crit it.
Quote by icaneatcatfood
On second thought, **** tuning forks. You best be carrying around a grand piano that was tuned by an Italian