I write words which
are unique and fair.
Bringing joy to the
heart, or nothing at all.
Those words, stick in
my head and I must spit
them out, to be read.
Why does this happen?
Is this some kind of
punishment? I don't know,
I cannot decide. Is it
friendly, not having a life
of his own. How well,
if the words are from
heaven or from Hell.
Do you still love me, the
way you once did, or is
it my love you now must rid?
Your soul is strong, please
do not leave me, alone in
this world, with only the
words I write.
Must I stay behind, all
day and all night, locked
in my dreams or my
nightmarish light?
I know you ask of me
and I will say to you,
"This is our home."