If i could
i would sketch my intentions on a piece of string,
I would gently pull and pull until i run out of  fabric.
And that's how i could,
If i could,
I would write my thoughts on a dark wooden floor,
I would continue on to every corner until i run out of colour.
This, i never would,
But if i could,
I would ask you to take my brains out and write yours,
I'd rather you use a needle until I am nothing but a corpse.