All I can do at this point is feel because those are my friends and thoughts are my foes. But how would I know?
Where has my sanity gone? Thoughts were always my safe place and thoughts turned to poetry.
My heart is a poet It speaks in rhymes and riddles Feels every stroke Every letter Blank pages welcome me Full ones overwhelm me
For who can write on something already written on? Far worse for a delicate being such as the heart.
Don't you know how delicate the heart is, The mind is, Don't you know you're driving me crazy But all my helpless poet can do is rant and rave on a page that cannot hear me! ... And still, it's the only one who hears me They say pray to God but even him I've shamed him
I've shamed him My parents My love And myself
But I can turn to pages and they won't turn away I can cry Scream Hurt pages and forever they'll stay
Forever? Really? Sorry to say But no Even they would leave
I'm sorry my poet If only I can protect you again.