Those pen marks
That keep you up
Through nights are just a cure
For when you thought
They knocked and opened
And barged in through your door.

You feel lofty and lost
And so obscure,
That it fills you up with beauty
You end up carving on your own.

You never ask
You never tell
You're a byline
Underneath, unread.

Maybe that's why
When they were scared
They called for help
Didn't hear you yelp
No, no, no.