I am not alone here, these words accompany Always close at hand, sitting right next to me Ringing in the silence of the room behind closed doors Bouncing off the walls and off of the hardwood floor
Tenderly caressing what is left of my heart Nudging my hand to the pencil, telling me to start Wiping tears from my eyes and connecting the drops Presenting the painter poet with a vision of art
Not today, oh not today, the sore is much too deep The artist in me cries that the fall is much too steep But inspiration beckons me this grim and lonely night Inclining me, between the tears, are the words which I must write
Goodnight, Goodnight
Each and every etching is a tearing truth to me Falling again and again into a tragedy But on I go as pain does grow and ease at the same time Escaping my mind and etching on my heart with every line
This is not depression, this is a cleansing thing See how the words choose to echo love to me A losing game, a crying shame, a message wrapped in tears A courageous allegation surrounded by constant fear
I will be done wih my sitting with my words soon As they float in the midnight sky up to the moon I will never see you again inside the tears I cry Only in the words on paper that you left behind