I'm afraid I'm not so good at this writing thing
Everyone seems to have a way with words

I just chatter on til i feel like my soul is free
Or maybe, it's til my soul reveals that it's empty

Either way

What was I saying again..?

Oh yea,

I'm afraid I'm not so good at this writing thing

I try to see the beauty in a rose
But it smells just like a **** to me.

My pen is filled with lovely words
That I can’t put on paper.

My heart’s aware that it’s been robbed
Of everything that’s velvet

But it beats on in vain attempt
To recognize a bluebird.
ljm

I was born to be a vessel
and now I'm coming clean
washing all your lies
out of me