this must be a writer's curse
to feel everything, to not feeling at all
it is to let the mind pump to its beat
and letting the heart up high to soar

alas, this is where I have put my fate onto
to write and write and write
and let the pen scar the paper’s skin
for it to run its ink to the course
running, and running till the end of time
as long as till my hands bleed ink
it is to miss the things that doesn't exist
or at least in my head, it's there they reside
as it makes the rhythm of my heart reverberate

they are now a part of me, it always have been
it just took long for me to find and master it
bend it, and let it go onto my will
as much as I don't want them to be
it became my limbs, my everything
it is a part of me
the words are flowing down my veins
I am not alive if it wasn't for words
my heart won't ever grow tired
as it's the purpose why I'm living
and no one can take it away from me