Pen and Pale paper

Ink too weak for such strong sentiment,
blood be its replacement.

Like black feather pen,
like dying day.

Quill leak blood
like serpent's fang leak venom.

My struggling fingers hug quill grip tight tonight
as I stain pain onto pale paper.

I write at night for alone feel safer, i'm told
not to confide in you for my tongue fears my mind and my anger hates betrayal.

And the only to know be;
Pen and Pale paper.