When I sit down to write up a poem for you
There’s nothing that comes to my head
There are so many words, they clutter my brain,
But I’m filled with a silence instead
A silence so dense, it splits through my mind,
A silence that kills with a passion
A silence so loud that it’s leaking with words,
That spill in a sickening fashion
But there are so many things I have yet to say,
Why, my head works so hard, to keep them away,
Why can I not put them out in the open,
is it because I feel I might seem too broken?
There’s nothing that comes to my head
There are so many words, they clutter my brain,
But I’m filled with a silence instead
A silence so dense, it splits through my mind,
A silence that kills with a passion
A silence so loud that it’s leaking with words,
That spill in a sickening fashion
But there are so many things I have yet to say,
Why, my head works so hard, to keep them away,
Why can I not put them out in the open,
is it because I feel I might seem too broken?
