The Red Pen

[Verse 1]
You keep a ruler by the typewriter
Mark every margin, measure every ache
You know where every sentence ought to turn
But never where a living thing might break

[Verse 2]
Your notebook’s full of borrowed weather
A careful storm arranged in perfect lines
You can name the ache in other people
Then turn away when any of it’s mine

[Chorus]
You’ve got the craft, but not the seeing
A polished frame with nothing breathing through
You write the shape of someone’s sorrow
But never let it lay a hand on you

[Verse 3]
At the reading, all the room applauded
You bowed as if the page had made you whole
Then went home and faced the kitchen window
Where your own reflection asked for more

[Bridge]
Put down the red pen for a minute
Let the sentence stumble, let it bruise
There’s no prize for being untouchable
No honest thing you cannot lose

[Chorus]
You’ve got the craft, but not the seeing
A polished frame with nothing breathing through
You write the shape of someone’s sorrow
But never let it lay a hand on you

[Outro]
The page can hold a thousand answers
But your heart must choose what’s true