Ink Blots

Silent, screaming blood covers the words
as they stutter over the torn page,
as though the ink in the bottle has been replaced
with the tears of scars covering our hands. 
 
Tears left only to smear these words,
every syllable, broken and blurred. 
Shadows flicker in the dim candlelight
and our hearts start to falter.
 
Collapsed sparks of life calling through
the splintered glass in the window pane
awaken us after dreaming
in the slumber of the thirst of insomniacs. 
 
Scars and broken bones,
not quite healed are our inspiration,
and also the promises of these wars and battles.
Break the curse binding us to where we stand.