My persona seems that of a blank book,
No words to give yet to be made,
Plain on the out side not worth the first look
But the pages of my mind are screaming not to let them fade

My thoughts lay plainly in invisible ink,
Wait for someone to try and read
They're afraid to show for what people may think
Still you believe someone with a pen is what I need.

What I need is a blind man to the words I can't say
Someone to connect with beyond the visible
Someone who will wait for the end and stay,
And with you, I might have finally sound someone capable