He took out his pen
Today he wanted to write
something good, something meaningful
He scattered empty pages
on his dusty desk with old
smelly half torn diaries on it
His mind stumble across his past
He dipped his pen in the ink
"Oh ... the darkness around me" ... he sighed ...
He leaned on the table
placed his head on a diary
with dust on it ...
"Just like my past ..." ... he said ...
His fingers moved ...
" Yes ... something meaningful indeed" ... he closed his eyes ...
The bottle fell spilling the ink ...
His pen scratched across the dusty paper ...
" I N F L I C T I O N "
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