late night poems.

11:17 pm

i want to write but the words won't come out.
i want to write poetry about how i feel
and now the only thing that i use to cope, is exactly just like me, broken.
i want to scream on the paper about how empty and numb i feel to the emotional and mental pain
and how i wish the ink would flow across my paper just like the tears running down my face.
i want to be able to do the one last thing i was good at.
maybe i was never that good at all.