The ***** of the pen,
The splots of ink.
They numb me,
And they create me.

Pouring out my tears,
Out my soul,
For all those who are
There to listen.

I can't help but wish
That I didn't have to do this,
That cloud nine is my home,
But reality must be faced.

The ***** of the pen,
The splots of ink.
They still numb me,
And they still create me.