I wish I could write
something about all my nights

to convey all the fears
not only drown in beers

I want to speak my heart
not hide in the dark

not escape the pain
but let it wane

to let my imagination grow
to pile up just like the snow

my handy work shows my thoughts
all of them seem to only be wrought

Only sounding pessimistic
when all should be optimistic

I am no good when things are going good
all is too easy to be understood

All the words lack the passion
only biding; looking like fashion

I only want to express joy
although I can not, since I am a boy