Just ramblings of a tired mind and philosophy.


Somedays I wonder why I can't let the words inside my 
Head onto paper, 
It's like there's a physical block that won't let my hand move,
Weird thing is,
I still have poem in my head, 
They just don't want to move,
They don't want to be seen,
Maybe they're afraid of the dark,
Or maybe they're just not ready yet,
Somedays I wonder why I got so quiet,
So stuck in my head,
So used to being alone and
So used to thinking rather than speaking,
If only I could write half the things I think God I would've been rich by now,
But I'm still just the girl writing words in her black leather book,
Words forever unseen but that's ok,
I don't need the money or the faim,
I just need some peace and time,
Just my books and some sleep,
God it's weird thinking about how much I've changed from the start to now.