When I feel empty,
lonely,
and depressed,
I find myself circling,
with thoughts,
of anger and distress.
A hole in my heart,
tears me apart.
Sometimes I don't know,
where I should start.
These poems and scribblings,
cover my desk,
my room and my shower,
and also my chest.
You can smell the sadness,
as you read my horrid madness.
These thoughts,
they are just little words,
that explain how I feel,
while my lips are kept sealed.
I write for love,
for the words left unspoken,
I write for the hate,
and the anguish that never ceases.
I write for the emptiness,
for the pain and sorrow.
I write so thoughts,
are left spoken.