Sometimes I just want to write,
Just spill it out onto a page.
But I can never make these words go right,
Or make these thoughts grow with age.
Sometimes I just want to have something I'm good at,
Something that I love.
But I only have a pen that touches paper,
And I'm in a daze I can't come out of.
Writing helps me to release my thoughts,
Those that are locked up inside my head.
I've always kept it all in,
And crawled inside my bed.
But now it's out, and that's where it's stying.
I;m finally open, and never fraying.
