With pen in hand, I start to write
Whatever I am feeling,
But what I feel is utter *****;
I'm tired of self-healing.

But, pen in hand, I start to write,
With the hope something will change;
Letting it out may make things right,
Or a little less **** strange.

So, pen in hand, I start to write,
And perhaps it helps a bit.
Maybe tomorrow, or tonight,
I won't feel like total ****.

And, with pen in hand, I start to write
Of hate, and pain, and sorrow,
With the hopes that it may just might
Make life better tomorrow.

Now, with pen in hand, I start to write,
And I don't feel quite as bad,
So perhaps this life is worth the fight,
Even though it drives me mad.

With pen in hand, I start to write
Whatever I am feeling,
And what I felt was utter *****
That needed this self-healing.