It helps
It helps to translate the screams of my heart into creative writings
Each line tailored under the supervision of a shrieking soul
Such poor working conditions have become the standard for my mind
I write because, each time I'm here I'm graced with deja vú of incredible proportions
I write because...
It helps
It helps because the blood of my bleeding heart make the perfect ink for my pen
So you see, it's not wasted
Each word giving of that red hue that soothes my teary eyes
I take refuge in my own arms, and in these words
I write because there's nothing else I can do in this lonesome chamber i refer to as my life.