We were trying to be soft spoken
Little words but very broken
Quiet voices and loud screams
Senseless whispers and impossible dreams,
But reality is hell and love is war
In a life of cliché and nothing more
But small talk with some sultry silence
Is what I call the perfect evening
Where it's you and I
And the sound of our scribbles, laughs and tears
I'm the writer and you're the pen
Where an evening alone with you
Is all I need to conquer my fears
Burn my rage
Onto a page
And let the world read.
A pen, you are all I need.