The words don't come easy,
The words are hard to find.
They are hidden in this despair
That has taken my mind.

The words are nothing more
Than the flow of ink on paper.
No meaning behind it all,
A jumble of thoughts are all they are.

Why continue if there's no truth in it.
Rather just something to do to pass
The time that has been moving slowly
Since the first breath of the day.

They say write what you know.
I suppose this mind has nothing
More to say than to keep the pen
Moving and let the words be as it may.