30900
little black books scattered all over the house
little white pages filled with blue tears disguised as words jotted down
from the last endeavor from my past lover
red writings read a thousand times
believing it'll heal the wounds
i smear the emotions on the page
looking for some type of relief
tension only builds
a hurt i cant seem to escape
black tears rehearsed over and over
no closure in sight
little black books
thrown all over the place
pick one up just to throw it back down
I'm sick of writing about being heart broken
feelings i cant break away from
i always recoil
finding comfort in my darkness
this is madness
for some reason
pain is ingrained in my veins
pain is my creativity
