In the ink
I feel the words
That cut like
Broken glass
And in the ink
I feel the words
The tell what’s
Come to pass

Through the ink
I hear the words
That whirl into
The past
And in the ink
I hear the aged words
‘cause words are made to last

Past the ink
I see the words
What I was meant
To see
And in the ink
I see the words
As they will always be

On the ink
I smell a stench
Of tainted words
Implied
And on the ink
I smell a stench
Rising in my eyes

‘round the ink
I taste a word
It’s hanging on
my tongue
And ‘round the ink
I taste the word
It tells of what’s to come

But after ink
You’ll see no words
Though, be assured
They’re there
And you can always
find more words
if you look and know where