Water pours from the skies
As well as pouring from my eyesWriting elicits a response
And my art is filled with nonchalanceIt's just so unfair
The childish part of me wails
I've done nothing but careThe understanding part of me knows that's not true
But what else am I supposed to do?I refuse to explain
Even if I'm in so much painI'm desperate to just release with word after word
Breaking down every thought process, every emotion, and pray that my voice would be heardBut I will not confirm remaining love nor newfound hate
I know that if I said anything now, it would already be too lateI feel sick as I stare through blurred vision
Constantly second guessing my decisionIt's just so hard to remain in silence
But I'm afraid that anything I do will end in violenceI preach about how I will not break, or how I will not explain
But my emotions are becoming harder and harder to containSo many times I've written out forgiveness, love, hatred, sorrow, self blame, and understanding
But I know that no string of words or poem could prevent such a bad landingJust know that I am me
And because of that, I will never be