The words I utter,
might not rhyme.
The words i write,
are my pride.
I write what I cannot think,
I write what cannot be seen.
I write till my brain bleeds;
till my heart mustn't feel.
It doesn't feel like a job
and certainly not like hobby.
don't take my pride away,
don't take my wealth away.
How badly I've wounded myself.
I'm bleeding out the words.
as passion seeps through my sleeves
I write till my hands go numb and my mind floods.
These phases written in different places.
It's love and catastrophe.
