I got so lost in this big world,
becoming absorbed in these cryptic words
that teachers spent years trying to convince me to give up.
I became the fragile ink
that began to write my book of eternal life,
knowing it could never be truly read.
How can I ever forget my nightmares,
when all day long I am wide awake
and at night I am never sleeping?
Cutting my skin was the only thing I had
to chase those haunting nightmares away,
and although I now grab a pen instead of the blade,
the ink just never dries in the same.
