I want to write for you But the words they flee me And as I keep writing, keep forcing it, it only gets worse and worse
If only you knew how many of these 'poems' of mine, mere bits of language mashed forcefully together, are resting in my draft box, resting there for ever, barely never to be revisited again
And yet I don't stop sitting here when I should long since be fast asleep Because I fear that I'm leaving you here with all of these unexpressed, never said sound-things I fear I dread I worry I am afraid When I should be embracing you
I actually put a little bit of thought into this one thinking about stuff I would like to find if I were a student trying to analize it for school. By stuff I mean stylistic devices and by a little bit of thought I mean I was in the bathtub and thought of this out of the blue