I will write until my paper bleeds from the blood on my fingers
I will write until all my memories leave,
When not even a single one lingers
I will write until every single word has a different home
I will write until my body is crashed by a written marble stone

Even when there is no colour, when stars are my eyes
Words all written, when my body lies
Doing it for the ones who barely got the chance
Sylvia, Maya, Lana, in all of their defense

When my love is all given and shared, and no one anticipates it
A psychopath has infected my brain, when I decide to face it
When I have to rejustify no, I’m not dead,
I’m just a girl with a writing that’s sad

When my ink runs out and so does my lifeline
When my masterpieces and failures are distributed in timelines
When the words love and happiness, are so old fashioned
That is when the writing stops, and here ends the passion