My best friend said,
To "write it all down",
So here I am to compose.
Trying so hard to get rid of the darkness.
But there's something affecting my prose.

My mind and pen won't connect.
My, heart with the hurt it has kept.
Will stay silent, that is always it's task.
"Silent for how long?" He stares at me and asks.

I say I don't know.
That I'm tempted to go,
For I desperately wish I had wings.
He pauses and says
With no second thought,

Why don't you go write something?