Would you call me crazy; for when I cannot speak
WORDS escape from the tip of my pen?
Would you call it insanity -
that all my emotions stay buried, far away
because I feel the world shouldn't see me this way.
For I know no one would understand
And I am unable to speak,
When emotions tear at my soul...
my eyes invariably search for pen and paper,
I'm breaking the habit tonight.
This is the last time, the very last
that all I feel and how I see the world
finds its place on paper; strung together
in so many words.
It is perhaps because I think too much
and let those emotions flow wild
I ended up as the confused child...
No matter what thought, feeling or person
comes my way, teases my will - to never find a muse,
know this: I will never write again.
The habit gets broken tonight....