No Response


Lately it feels like paper is the only thing that will listen.

And the ink in the pen is what makes the words glisten.

'Cause the story isn't pretty.

But neither is my attitude.

Hey Micah Nicole, why are they always mad at you?

And I'm supposed to care and you can't say I don't try.

But with caring so much, your whole lifetime can fly by.

And on this page is the only time I get high.

And then I drop back down like the tears I cry.

So why do you think I live my life in this notebook?

I don't save memories with pictures that I took.

'Cause words carry so much more feelings.

And reading it over, it can start the healing.

But it can't stop the pain.

So on this white page, blue lines, I let all my thoughts go insane.

And I'm not even trying to make a name.

I'm going off of inspiration that just came.

The adrenaline slows but my heart still beats fast.

And I just want to know how long it all will last.

'Cause that's the only time when I truly feel alive.

I'm not trying to lose my stinger in that bee hive.

And I will stop flying when the wind starts to blow me.

'Cause then I'm not flying.

Then I'm just floating.

The only problem is I don't know where I'm going.

But since when was life always about knowing?

And who said feelings were always about showing?

Inside I'm dim, outside I'm just glowing.

But right now this book is all I can depend on.

It holds everything, it'll never do me wrong.

My book would never lie like the people standing by looking.

Every page is like a new flight that I'm booking.

And when the ink dries, it's time to blast off.

The pain leaves so I can take my casts off.

And release all the enegy that I feel.

And in those moments, it feels so real.

I come back down in a daze.

Gone for five minutes, feels like five days.

And then we go our separate ways.

I close my book but the pain still stays.


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741