A Writers Woes

Writing Out My Problems Theres Not Enough Ink In My Pen.

To Tell The Horrid Stories On Which i Shall Begin.

I'm Not So Sure Where It Started But I Know I'm Not Content.

So I'll Pick Up My Pen And Paper And Slowly I Shall Vent.

What Should I Start To Talk About..So Many Things To Tell.

So Many Hard Times And Heartache..... I Don't Even Think Words Could Spell.

Maybe I Should Start From My Childhood Where It All Began.

Years And Years Of Hurt Only Happiness I Demand.

Putting Up With So Much Drama.. Frequently Putting On Airs.

Hiding Behind My Feelings..My Blankly Desolate Stares.

My Pen Is Working Rapidly Overlaping My Page.

With Words And Hurtfull Truths My Life Just Can't Be Saved.

As I Go Through Every Sentence Reading What I Wrote.

I Silently Gasp For Air As Tears And Depression Makes Me Choke.