Poem

The paper is empty, as the space inside my head.
When I start with thinking, my bloody eyes turn red.

The words just keep on bleeding, and the pencil writes them down.
My inner self is leading, my thoughts inside to drown..

The paper isn't filled jet, the space is left to tear.
The ink as the emotional lock, that keeps my burning fear.

The scratches are getting wider, they grow within my sight.
The darkest colour left to color, the other one to hide.

The paper is now fulfilled, as my head is stuffed with pain.
And the lacking bit of poetry, is making me insane...
Raven

This is rather a poem, written somewhere earlier than some others, and I very much liked it. Even though it's not perfect, I just liked it. It somehow is limerick? and it's quite different than the ABAB-CDCD-EFEF poems I always make..
It's also a very emotional poem to me, and one which kind of sweeps to a scent of horror, depression, and.. well.. Just enjoy it.