By Samuel Kodie
Ink dances on paper
Swaying with a mesmerising force
Planting impression forever held
A creation of an immortal weld
Destruction, the only way to remorse
Think to stay the reaper
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The marriage of reality and imagination
Causing one to separate from a version
Turning heads but in no direction
The praise of none but bone
The craze of all to tone
Ink strives to atone
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When template turns dark
When all in praise bark
When nothing is left but a mark
A voice rises from the park
With a message to hark
"Too mundane," sticking like bark
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