Think Ink

Again and again the harassment of my pen, the words bleed as the ink spills out. My brain is a blur and my thoughts are in doubt. Where will I go when I finally fall? How hard will I hit when I lose it all ? How many times do I dust myself off? How easy is it to find yourself when you are lost? Will the signs be clear or do I have to figure out where each piece fits? I put things together to the way that I like to see it. I take a step back and the picture is obscured. Lost misunderstood and not really clear. My path is bright but I am filled with fear. My insides want it, my desire is strong, my hands have been holding things that are wrong. Now, I can only grab what is next to me, to escape the pain. I’m holding onto things, although I know it is in vain. My friend here is the only one that understands, this pen to paper takes me to another land. I scribble, I scratch and again and again, it’s the same emotions flowing from the tip of my pen.