It is not easy to write,
Cutting open my wounds with a metaphorical knife,
I am bleeding on to the page,
Too many thoughts in an Authors mind,
Driving myself insane,
By inspiration of broken hearts,
The drag of a cigarette,
I am killing my lungs and I cannot be done yet,
A dream so close to me,
Reaching into the infinite possibilities,
Along comes the time to grasp hold,
And let go of the unknown,
I am not a broken soul.
Just damaged by my own fantasies of reality.