#1
Quill pen to parchment paper,
Scratchin' thoughts, itchin' for a savior.
No minds to bleed through me,
I'm all on my own, bled thoroughly.
I'm on the chopping block,
I need writers shock,
Therapy for the insane.
Asylum for the migraine.

Find me a place of leisure,
Squashing thoughts, twitchin' like a seizure.
No pencils left to chew,
No ink left to spew,
Prophetic failings,
Crucifixive nailings,
Stigmata of the thought,
Thorns of the crown.
BOLD.
Last edited by maddd0g at Oct 2, 2009,
#3
Please go read the rules. They explain what to do if you want comments, and bumping your piece isn't it.

You can re-post this piece tomorrow keeping the rules in mind.

Thanks.