With my head on my pillow
lights off
in pure darkness I like to find myself
the only lights coming in
are the street lamps
Shining through my vertical blinds on the left side of my bed
and the only light shining inside the room
is my computer.
I look up to the ceiling
while having Coldplay in the background
thoughts come and go
but this repeating thought keeps coming to mind
well, two really
but I will mention one.
I need to be writing the story I had started
I showed four people and they ask me when they see me...
"Have you written? I want to know how the story keeps going"
I can tell they're honest, they do want to know
I just can't, the story was written when I was someone else
I've tried. I sit on my desk, read to see where I left off
but I cannot connect with it
I feel as if I would be stealing another writers story
(does that make sense?)
Thing is, I wasn't going to write anything tonight or even for a while,
for it came to memory this one episode
where I wrote something once,
poured my heart and tears on it
and saw how it was burnt by another
I felt I was a flag and they were burning me
protesting for their hurt.
(which in all, they had the right to do so)
Also, I knew I would ramble on tonight, feelings are not organized
they are all over the place
and it won't be anything worth reading
but what's worthy anyway? no one is, nothing is
its one of those quiet nights where
"I've never heard silence this loud"
having a pen in my mouth
instead of my hand
my pen literally speaking for me,
my vocals do none the talking.
Anyway, I love you.
Goodnight.
"Shit, do actions have consequences. Now get over yourself." -SWM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHAdbn2e_QQ&feature=youtube_gdata_player
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