They say when you feel like this,
You should write it down,
You will tell it as it is,
With no pretty words or clever phrases,
Just the truth told in verbs and nouns.
It's the look in the eye that gives it away,
It glistens as it blinks with nothing to say,
For the words have already been written,
In a hundred thousand different ways,
All echoing that same sentiment,
All with the same thing said again and again.
So what can I say that will be new and original?
I am assuming of course that there is something I can say,
And how can I colour it, give it different shades?
Is black and white the only way?
With a touch of red, that rhymes with bled,
A stain on the floor, a body on the bed,
Drinking with ghosts that were never really there.
Cause it is hard to let them go,
There is always a need to have them there,
Scars of the past of who you really are,
Without them you have no past,
So now I have had my chance to have my say,
It is time for you and me and them to slip away,
And turn of the light as you all leave,
I have what I need to set myself free,
A pen and an empty page.
