This is a war that cannot be fought with weapons
But with words
Unsheathe your pens and throw away your erasers
We’ve no time for mistakes
Sharpen your pencils
My blood is pumping with lead I have not yet bombed onto paper
Open your fists and turn them into outstretched hands
Reaching forward
Palms turned up toward a sky split down the middle
Rain pouring out of the open veins we call constellations
That paint stories on the wrists of heroes
Washing away the blood we spilled like ink on love letters
Fighting for those who loved out loud
(Source: scribbles-and-scratches)
