Ink filled impressions
This is why I write
so at least on the outside I seem alright.
Rather to hide the pain
or is it to somehow remain sane?
Just silent ink filled impressions on a page
forged by an adoecent heart filled with rage.
Innocents was once mine
to go back to that would just be devine.
Does this make any sense?
Inside the feeling are so dense.
I've learned to put a smile on my face,
while I struggle to keep up with the world's pace.
Can you not see,
what you have caused me?
Years without you
becoming strong became all I could do.
"Daddy's little Angel"
my innocents he did sell.
For what exactly?
To start a new life without me.
So this is why I write.
So no one questions me when I say I am alright.
I write to stay sane,
and so nobody sees my pain.