My mind is cluttered with fiction and sin
I could tell you a story but I can't find where it begins
I was lost in the middle while eating the end
I'm running through a graveyard of pens that have spilled their last drop of ink
My fingertips are bleeding but I can't get the blood to stick to the page
The words seep through the paper and crawl beneath the earth
I try to follow their trail but when I get to the bottom
They have changed their shape and their colors and aren't words anymore
I turn to retrace my steps to go back to where it all began
But the dirt turns to clouds and all I can do is fall through the middle while eating the end