I keep a lot of things
Inside a box under my bed
All the confessions left unspoken
All the things I never said

All the silenced "I love you"s
Every drowned out "please"
Every word I've ever swallowed
I keep them under lock and key

So every time that I seem quiet
When I refuse to make a sound
That's just me adding a new collection
To my box that will never be found

But maybe one day I'll find someone special, who really cares to see
Who will reach into my coat pocket
And find my secret key

Maybe then we'll sit together
And look at every one
I think I'll be able to talk much better
With every knot and noose undone

But I suppose that's just a dream of mine
And all these words drawn out with lead
Are just a new addition
to the box under my bed

A room that's set in monochrome
A girl who sees it as her home
She hates it here but even so
A way to leave she does not know

West, North, East, South
Are painted black. Below her mouth
Is white, above is white
No doors, no windows so she stays there day and night

But the girl, she doesn't move
In the floor she finds a groove
To run her fingers up and down
Numbly, numbly, no she doesn't make
a sound

A droplet falls upon her head
She cries and wishes she were dead
Because she knows what is to come
All the water, like a gun

All the water, fills the room
She drowns, she dies
When she comes to
The water's gone
The room is black and snow
She sits again inside her home

A room that's set in monochrome

I used to paint the pictures
That I saw in my mind
Each day was a treasure
I'd rush to open and find

Splashes of color
Sunrises and birds
Back when art was a language
That I preferred over words

Now trying to get
Some thoughts off my back
I painted a picture
My canvas turned black

No textures or patterns
were there in my head
Words are all I have now
The artist is dead.