Am really glad they made ink,
'Why's that?' You might think,
Well! Some of us, are crowds,
Fitted, under a stretch of skin,
We talk to ourselves hold it in,
All that, in a conflicted brain,
Sometimes, we're at all peace,
Other times, yelling for peace,
Don't judge by the calm faces,
Or the stillness, of our voices,
Monsters don't always behave,
Am really glad they made ink,
They can say, what they have,
Take pieces of what they give.
"Ink"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha
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