I fill the pages to cover up the guilt I feel,
I question to make me feel better,
I complain to weight my sorrow,
Do I deserve all of this?
The old broken poems regretted the hands that never held,
I live to save the name that gave me.

To bargain the loneliness ,
I sing a song of depression.
To perfect the insanity,
I labelled the smiles of grief.
But no matter, I still wrong the innocent….