My heart bleeds out ink,
Which my hand smears onto paper.
Drip by drip comes
Word by word.
Every poem is trying to heal the wound
That makes my heart bleed.

My tears form as words.
These dry cheeks
Still haven’t felt that salty tear drop
And still I can feel that tear build up behind my eyes.
So my hand works extra hard
To try and cover this page,
With words I turn into poems.

My Blood and Tears
Are words and Sentences
Which I give out to all to share
And to feel that little bit less alone
In this world

Marc Robinson

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-blood-and-tears-are-words-and-sentences/