What am I supposed
To do with these
Empty sheets and
Worn out dreams?

Abused And
Misused
But always forgotten
It's only a question of death.

Searching, not knowing
For a dream
I don't know
There's nothing here for me

A life spent wanting
Spent waiting
For something never to be
Is there any point

Life is lame
It *****
It's not what we expect
That why

It's only a question of death

It may seem dark
But there may be
Light
It's never a question of death

If you see me with this big white notebook in my arms
it's because I can't get you off my mind
and I want to write down
every stupid poem that I think of
just in case it's a masterpiece

'Why', he said.
'Because', she said 'I can't love anyone the way I loved you. Not even you'.