Beautiful words won't save my dreams,
They're so far from what they mean;
They might be silent, or thoughts of another,
But not mine they way I imagined --

I leave the page ***** and used,
Unclear poetry of my past abused;
I am no brighter than ink,
No more pure than the empty page --

Silence is always on my tongue
While all I am inside is unsung;
I might be emptiness or not,
You'll never know, will you?