Here again I sit with my favorite pen.
Sitting and thinking,
yet no where to begin.
Been to long to be able to turn back,
nothing else matters,
I just keep on going.
I have to keep on going.
Who would I be if I was the first to give up,
who would I be?
The images begin to even scare me.
I\'m not another person,
this mind is all it\'s own,
I\'m not what you want me to be,
still I play the part very well.
It\'s just me and my favorite pen.
I can\'t stop the way it all comes out,
the truth has many colors.
Many many colors,
and I bleed a shade of grey.
One solid shade.
That is just who I am,
grey doesn\'t mean unhappy.
I know it seems I am struggling.
And in a way I am,
amazing how the struggle is shown,
trust me I don\'t plan that.
It all just comes out in a thought,
and all my thoughts are real,
naturally it will all come together,
I am only what I am.
That\'s simply all I know how to be.
Suddenly I get amazed,
I look around and see nothing,
it\'s just me and my favorite pen,
creating the perfect picture.
From the fact right to the feeling,
I need to reveal another thought.
I get like that you know,
so here\'s another story.

I am a mass of flame.
Somehow inside of me is just constantly burning.
Forever.
I begin to question if somewhere I finally died,
have I made it to some kind of past life?
Could I still really be that empty little girl,
lost to simply dream and cry,
curled into a ball,
screaming in hopes to die.
Did I die?
How could I have become this strong,
that pain,
that horrible pain.
My flashbacks a living memory?
Still I know to think,
even if I have died I am still living.
I deserved a second chance,
deserve to make myself happy,
to soon it was all taken away from me,
but I came back.
Each memory still intact,
I know any wrong move could take me right back,
and because of that I am happy.
I can\'t help but want to smile,
though again I may cry,
I know where I am going.
I know where I am right now.

And I got babbling.
Honest I could go on forever,
my pen just writes along.
Books and books I\'ve written,
filled with words just as these,
a few I cut short,
those I share for others to read.
I guess it would seem I\'m crazy,
and if so well that\'s ok,
in a way it\'s to be expected,
when it\'s just me and my favorite pen.