Words are not enough to voice, the tragic noise I feel inside
Maybe I draw a picture to soothe, the nerves that never sit still
I pick up the pencil and a clean sheet of white paper
And I think.
Words fail me, but my hand moves
And draw parallel lines, the paper ends, and yet the lines go on
In my mind’s eye, I see them moving
Cutting through me like butter
Sharp, coal black figures, constant
Moving, traversing the paths I dare not dream
Curse the ends that never meet.