It’s hard starting over,
Especially when you’ve grown
The slightest sense of familiarity.
When you hate the way you’re living.
But then the slightest ray
Of sunshine is sent your way.
Your walls tear down,
Hope begins to flutter.
Then that ray burns out,
And you’re left once again
Starting over.

It may be that i am just an empty book
But i am ready to write your love
On my blank pages.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.