Bottle of Ink
We are a bottle of ink
spilled over sheets of life.
He pumps us into his fountain pen
carving every word He writes.
Once erased- the rims go blank
leaving behind shards.
Blackened
when greased forcefully
white death over dark alphabets
of love, agony, doom.
© Copyright, Tina Rathore.
Tagged: life, literature, Poetry 
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