Last time I felt this I was in the same spot,
Staring at the books on the floor,
Holding off on things I knew I had to do,
Though I would rather make my way out the door,
Couldn't swallow couldn'��t think,
Sure destruction on the brink,
For the second time I fall to the floor.
Writers don't get enough credit
For words exposed and strong
Pencil touching paper
Can be forgotten or can set off a bomb
I'��m still staring at this blank page,
Another crumpled sheet of spotless paper,
I've got too many feelings and just enough words,
But not enough courage to say them,
I'm staring at a blank wall
In a blank room
But I can't blank my mind,
My bleeding heart knows the truth,
I'��m staring at this blank page,
My love letter to you.
Last time I thought of writing this I was eighteen,
I'm no longer eighteen, but does it really matter?
An almost different person gave her heart away,
To a boy who sent it back all shattered,
Now the cracks cannot be seen,
But I'��m still yearning to bleed,
Now a brand new love can make me stagger.
Artists don't get enough credit,
Even though art can'��t be wrong,
Pen touching paper ,
Can be forgotten or can set off a bomb.
Have I become older?
Have I become wiser?
Some things just don��t translate well to words.
I know love can seem harmless,
But fate is truly heartless,
I think my love could break our whole world.
The page is blank,
I think it should stay that way,
But every now and then,
I have the urge to say,
I'm still staring at this blank page
Another crumpled sheet of spotless paper
I've got too many feelings and just enough words
But not enough courage to say them
I'm staring at a blank wall
In a blank room
But I can'��t blank my mind
My bleeding heart knows the truth
I'm staring at this blank page
My love letter to you
To tell you would break us whole
Cause I know just what you'��d do
So keeping the secret safe
Is my love letter to you.
.
Edited by
unknown_romeo
on Tue 01/13/15 11:54 PM