Why write if no ones gonna read it?
why live when theres no point in breathing?
why cry for things that we don't believe in?
why talk to people we shouldn't see anything in?
life is like a simple poem--
when the ink is smeared
you must start over
what good am i if i can't be read?
how can they see through my blurr or dread?
why must my eyes keep opening?
why not just let me leave and bleed?
if all i need is one more chance--
why can't i get the last one back?
the friends hurt me more now then ever
they spread the blood and thought it clever
what good am i to those which come?
why can't i see before i step in gum?
what is the point of my constant torture?
i want to live
i need to breath
the ink can smear--
but i can still read
my life has gone both in and out
the pen has traveled with me, no doubt
but now as i read back and dream
i know this write cannot be seen
why write if no ones gonna read it?
why live when theres no point in breathing?
why cry for things that we don't believe in?
why talk to people we shouldn't see anything in?
the ink is dried
my stories still going
i will not stop
no need to keep knowing
life is like a simple poem--
when the ink is smeared
theres no need to start over
