There are different reasons why you write.
You write because...
...you're happy?
you're sad?
you're delighted?
you're mourning?
keeping a secret?
But whichever reason you have,
you still write what's inside.
What other people can't see,
can't decipher beneath the words you speak,
can't understand the emotions flowing
through the sentences you can't speak out loud.
You write, pouring the feelings you can't let out,
you write. using the words you once thought can't explain what you feel.
You write, thinking that someone out there can finally discern what you're hiding inside.

Words spill out of me, overflow of emotions, I feel like I’m only words
Only confusion
Only incorrect syntax and tolerable grammar
It hurts you know,
To be so full and feel so empty
a pit that is never full, and grows when you feed it

Overflow of words
Overflow of unlovable thought
Overflow of me
It hurts you know

it wasn't until the sun rose
that I realized
just how much
I was in love with the moon

Many things I wanted to do,
I had no means to see them through,
My many years went rushing by,
Quicker than birds up in the sky,
So some dreams were lost on the way,
Never did see the light of day,
Now I've settled with what I've got,
Still to finish what I did not.

Roses are grey
Violets are grey
When you look at them in a certain way

It's true.


All the things I did - and could not - say
Now put aside by time, I will say now.

I finally see the multicolours of your life

Of you.