I'm too weak.
So weak if fact,
That if I get too far in this train of thought,
I'll get hit,
And thrown back into the dark.
All I'll be able to do is think.
So deep I won't be able to speak.
It feels like I'm bleeding from my mouth,
The words simply just don't come out.
So all I will be left with is,
The endless blank pages again.
But I've seen them so many times.
Blank pages are now a dreaded friend.
