To wind up all of the thoughts,
Into a ball and throw it at the wall,
Doesn't seem to work,
Cause the sound collects words like dust,
I need to introspect inside of a page,
To write until the sun comes up,
And the yarn shadows untangle themselves,
Words to me don't work like voices,
But like graphite,
They don't get collected or tossed about,
They end up sitting upon a page,
Watching with hopeful eyes.

I'll figure you out with time, in time,
Nights could go by before I read it again,
But it's then that I see what's inside my head,
So forgive me if they're dark, brooding, or sick,
It's the only way I know,
The only way I know.