The Ink Remembers/by:Haunted Lunacy

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Who am I? 
The devil knows.
Drowning in thoughts,
an endless sea of poetry
and prose.
Deafening madness,
a masterpiece of mental 
chaos and quiet woe.

So who am I you ask?
A forlorn poet.
The devils festering muse.
Impaling my soul upon this
pen, wailing and screaming silently 
through every word I choose.

I am but a whisper on the wind
blowing through your silky hair.
Chilling your skin only for a moment,
then forever gone into the night.
Quickly forgotten, but the ink remembers,
Yes, the ink remembers.

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