Ink-stained Wrists

I can't form a proper fist
To crown this lovely ink-stained wrist
I'm too scatterbrained to fight
There's more important things in sight

Words connect with crooked strings
That from my torn pages scream
I'm so scared they won't be heard
Like little ever-grounded birds

Messy rooms make sleeping hard
When windows show a starlit yard
Sometimes I think I might fly
If they were to open into sky

Sheets are good for draining tears
That wait in line through all my years
Dark is brighter in the night
And beautiful just out of sight

Biking to a haunted house
Sometimes I see dead leaves pounce
Listeners hear so much more
When they stop to break down lonely doors

Reaching out to care's a feat
So don't let gumption take a seat
No one is a open book
You'll never know if you don't look

Don't let moments slip away
Nothing here has plans to stay
When pains are numerous as fists
Dare to stain your broken wrists