Scrambled eggs inside my head,

Words untold and words unsaid,

I could not write to tell a tale,

I could not speak in fear I'd fail,

Yet here I sit upon a chair,

My thoughts spill out as in repair,

I've spoken now and now I write,

I fill an all but empty night,

With hopes of cures for you and me,

To see with eyes that we don't see,

And dream of dreams allowing rest,

Filled with peace for those that test,

Who test, demand, to know unknown,

Uncover pain and heart of stone,

Reveal the hurt that tries to hide,

And awaken what lies dark inside,

Til tears sting lonlier and twice as much,

As the forgiving and healing touch,

I'm finally lifted from my spell,

No more hate for I have fell,

Those scrambled eggs within my mind,

Finally turn to words that can unwind,

With pencil, paper, a thought or three,

My restless mind can finally be,

A happy one that shall endure,

Writing rhymes with thoughts half pure.