The Darkness

I tried to write the beauty, my ink withered and died. I wrote music, the syllables left the pages. I wrote romance, the pen's nib got broken. I wrote flowers, the petals fell off the stem. I wrote sun, moon and the stars, their love died. I wrote fairy tales, the world collapsed. But when I wrote darkness, The ink dripped endlessly, like life is my veins. The paper tortured me to write even more.