today I was writing you a thought, it twisted my soul and tried my life’s facination.
I’m writing you a song, to tell you in sweet rhymes these things I have found.
I’m writing strong, these feelings in this book, my depression reigns.
The force of this pen has become less as my hands bleed of ink, on these pages.
Tell me. Can you sense my anguish? Can you see the imprints of confusion.
Can I tell you more how my life hurts?
Piano keys and the slightest degrees, feed my pain, I’ve got nothing to gain.
Tell me reader, do you hear me? Can you help me?
Can anyone tell me what I want, what thoughts I enjoy, what food I like?
Please can someone tell me if I’m OK.
I think I’m dying – the self confessed sorry state of afairs, the rise of paranoia – the ride of destiny.
Through nothings and everythings – I cannot bring forth anything…why?
I’m writing strong, today to tell you that One Day I will Die.
One Day I Will Know What I Want.
but not today,
today, I’m writing strong.