cursive

When I form my lines
When I perfect my techniques
I hid my pain beneath the ink
I can't just scribble
Im forced to think
Emotions brought to life
I traded my pen for a knife
With this blood I write my life
Just another soul escaping in the night
As if my pen has finally died
My veins emptying my worthless life
As my well drys up and feather falls apart
My lungs beg for air as my heat had given up
Who knew cursive could save my life
The patterns burned in my brain
The letters missing every major vein
Now I write on paper instead of skin
My blade rounded out not a pin
People see my beauty not my scars
Cursive had become my best friend
Who will be yours