The words ..They call me out.

I'm wondering and pondering what I should pencil down,

because everything is calling me out.

The words the word speaks,

the words the human speaks,

the words everything speaks.

If I could write them out without a single flaw in the pencil or ink I'd be angry and never happy.

Because anything that's perfect in imperfect.

Any person that claims to be sane is insane,

Because there is nothing but any kind of insanity.

If you claim you're insane...

Well, then I cannot judge,

Because I am not myself.


But the words they call...

And they say...

Write me out...


Write me out

before I slowly wither away.

Or shudder away petal by petal like tears on small las's face in the rain


Write me out

before I run out of tears to cry.


That is what the words call out,

And they scream so loudly in any place that I am at.


The words ...

They call...

They scream...

They yearn to be written....

They cry..

And they tell me....

To..

Write them out.