These are the thoughts that swirl in our mind
These thoughts to which we sit to dine
We eat our words
Or folly our forlorn
Our passive aggressive nature's
Those we lament
We wail and we scream
With our pen and paper

We love unconditionally
But expect nothing in return
at least that's what we tell ourselves
For ours is a heartache like no other
One that can only be expressed by our pens and papers
Our blood ink that never runs dry
Like the tears that we know fall from our skies

The skies that are blue for everyone else
To us they are cold and dark cloudedness        
These skies which hold the stars
To us the stars are but a curse, the moon pregnant with our hopes and dreams lost
never to be birthed

Instead we labor in our hands and mind
Pushing out these thoughts of ours
Hoping we birth something beautiful between these lines