i grip the paper and pen trying to write some stupid dark edgy poem yet i can't because this heart is not fully filled with black. i see others writing the most beautiful, horrendous things and i think to myself, “why can I do this?” i want to spill my own guts on this blank page, yet the words don't make sense. It seems so forced the last time i tried, i wasn't in a good state of mind. still am, by the way.
