In my pen I tack my pains,
And I won’t let any ink drop in vain,
I turned my book into a punching bag,
dropping punchlines with poetic swag,
I connect my heart to my pen,
through it I wrote myself out of depression den.
My heart is now devoid of pain,
Because it poured all onto paper like rain.
The book is listening and a friend,
It’s never pissed knowing the pains in my mind.
The world only pretends to care about my pain,
taking my words to mock me again and again,
My mouth is shut against the world,
Because it’s careless about the pain in my word.
My pen is now my mouth,
through it, my heart speaks wisdom with truth
You see my vocal cords are destroyed
by the pain I carry in my heart,
my pen carries more weight than I could,
the only weapon I carry to relinquish me from
my mental slavery
For I am a slave of pain, locked in unbreakable chains
The only drug I can overdose on that never kills me
the sword of faith, hope…
it hits my paper and I become numb…