Deep, way deep
Inside your mind
You’ve walked its paths
A thousand times

Storing all of
What you once knew
Parts remain lost
Some come back to you

Twists and turns
Some good, some bad
Longing for the future
Yet begging for what you had

Deep, way deep
Inside your soul
All of your emotions
They truly show

The grass surrounds you
Continues to grow
And simultaneously
You continue to mow

Lying there
Watching the clouds
With another
Sharing thoughts aloud

Back to reality
The truth isn’t so sweet
When you feel now
What lies beneath your feet

You know how a person cuts to relieve their pain?
To rid the sorrows of their cruel reality.
To forget everything in their taunting lives.
To see the blood drip down forming a little pool of pain.
Well writers bleed too.
They may not cut but we are also hurting.
We feel the same pain you do.
The hurt and suffering.
The razor is my pen.
The paper is my arm.
And the writing is my bleeding.

She thinks
She feels
She ponders
She breathes
She contemplates
She lives in pieces
She wonders
She suffers torment
She remains foot-in-mouth free