Splotched Ink

Ink like darkness tattooing the sky,
Messy and splotched like a makeshift lie.
Read the stories that wish to be told,
Full of secrets and mysteries you ought to behold.

Tattered and battered with dirty yellow pages,
Waiting to be discovered for ages and ages.
Why is it like this? How long has it been?

Since it felt human hands,
Since it finally felt clean.