I come to the page with nothing to say
but I feel I must write anyway.

You see I'm dealing with a pain
it's coursing through my veins
as I try to remain silent,
not scream!

But the page can speak,
it can scream, it's never told to hold its tongue,
it's never told not to dream, to cry, or act dignified.

It's not even told not to lie
most of what's written is lies.

Not to deceive but to please.
But I asked for the truth, and it was given to me.

So now I'm dealing with a pain,
and wishing your lies
could deceive me once again.