A writer lives two lives
One on earth
And the other on pages

I'm surprised no one else can hear it
the roar of blood begging to be set free
I know I'm so close to freedom
Is it worth it, can it be?

Who decided that it was bad?
To take your fate into your own hands?
I just want to feel okay, but I'm the only person in my way

People
don't
change;

opinions
      do.

Sometimes when I rarely sleep,
I see back to distant memories
to times where I would never weep
such hazy dreams I'd die to keep

When he holds me I'm never lonely
but my many holes I own solely  

Sometimes when we rarely drink,
I can feel our deep link
how we try hard not to think
about how I'm bound to sink

You said
Tomorrow is a new day
That we can leave
All our baggage
Behind us
And start over

And that hit me
Because those are the words
I've been dying
To hear

And of course
It came from the man
Who had been singing on stage
And keeping me alive
And letting me know

I am never
Alone.

-e.w.