World of Ink

Is it in the paper?

Is it in the ink?

Is it in the mindless words

The teachers make you think?

Does it scream inside like madness

Clawing to be free?

Is it the echoes of your classmates

Branching out like withered trees?

Do you look inside to save it,

Child-like naïveté?

Or is it buried under layers

Of dead frost-bitten dreams?

Does it bloom under spring sunshine?

Does it unfurl to meet the rain?

Do the chromatic swirls of color

Twine around your brain?

Are you suffocating slowly

Beneath monolithic clouds?

Can anybody hear you?

Are your words spoken aloud?

Will anybody save you

Lost among the wreck?

Or are you just a casualty

Of a world so sick?