I find it difficult to write when my
Pen made up of love is filled with
Broken hearts and pointed tongue's.
It's like a gun that's shootin blanks.
Like I drank the rotten soup that
Sloshed inside and made a mess of
Things... won't ever be the same.

I find it difficult to sleep at night
Cause my dreams remind me that
The waning moon sheds our skin and
Im afraid of ending up a sheep
Corralled into a gate that shapes my
Destiny... How cruel of fate.

I find it difficult to speak to you
When emotions rule my thoughts
Of *** and touch, my only tools
Good for fixing lonely souls until our
Hearts beat together and the blood begins to
Pool... Whatever shall we do?

I find it way too ******* easy to
Find a pretty persons face and
Sew them to my quilt of reasons
I'll never be okay with feeling
Like a tea leaf over boiled so
You can get a taste of watered down
Me.