I read and reread
So overly inspired with what others create
I cant plant the seed
I cant make these Ideas grow and blossom at any certain rate
Maybe im stuck
Stuck inside my head
Where everything sounds like junk
And I cant go to bed because its like im seeing red
I get so mad being cooped up inside my head
Why cant I get the letters to form
Its all right there and I can feel it so close
But my hand wont write and the pen wont become warm
Because I havent bothered to pick it up, I think im being a bad host
For these thoughts of mine that are clumsy
But want to be set free insted of being traped and unseen like a ghost
...sometimes I wish I were a ghost