What i Leave Behind

The tapping, the clicking, the snapping, the twisting The sound of hard wood vibrating; Through the flow of word that teetering back and forth onto the pages From the heaviest thud too the deepest rip From the light chicken feet, to none at all Onto the cheapest paper bleeds black, blue and red We must not scream for she is not there Only screeching of a thousand nails are near My pink curds are dusted, Dusted off my books I leave my mark of who’s there Only to confused and restless My body is now too close; too close to know the smell The smell of the #2, That’s all I need to get away from My Sharpie is fine, My, Sharpie is bold To bold too of a smell That seeps in my mind The Sharpie is to powerful I must leave my mark I need to do it now; For only my pen is too light, to light to keep up Confused on who’s there? Last but not least I’m here.