I Express Myself Through Writing
My sorrow is quiet and soft.
I think too much.
I feel too much.
Was I painted wrong?
I paint my own picture
Blue on the inside of a cold window.
Will I ever know the answers I seek?
Will anyone ever understand me?
I am quiet
And it is dark.
I wonder where I belong.
I think too much.
I feel too much.
Was I painted wrong?
I paint my own picture
Blue on the inside of a cold window.
Will I ever know the answers I seek?
Will anyone ever understand me?
I am quiet
And it is dark.
I wonder where I belong.