written by: Ronald Allen Bell
I forgot how to express.
I lost my friends while writing it all down, there’s nothing left…
I am empty, I am read.
All know my once upon a time.
Now I’m only just a story told, collecting dust.
I make a face to make you see that I still feel, you call my bluff.
If I cry will you feel sorry for me, reach out and call so loud my name?
I once had friends that I shared smiles with.
My friends, they’ve gone away.
Take the words of which I speak and plant them in your garden, deep.
The sad words on your tears will feed, sprout with thorns to fend off tragedies.
The lessons learned like scars remind you,
of the times that I betrayed your trust.
Still when it is you recollect, back into my arms you’ll rush.
Write the pain upon the page.
Will another one day read them?
Ink and tears make words that fade, when it’s pain that’s used to feed them.
Nothing in your garden grows,
that came to be from within your own soul…
I am he that turned your sweet to bitter, broken, tired and cold.
Send me away.
Somewhere far but not in miles.
I’d like to hear the sound of emptiness, see nothing for awhile…
I could think so deeply, daydream, wander off in thought.
Nothing there to interrupt me as I foolishly get lost.
When it is I’ve done this for the time that it requires to see me straight.
I’ll panick and my heart will race as I have lost my way.
I tell myself it’s what I want.
I’ll get used to it.
I asked for this.
Nothingness is silence, no interruptions, it is bliss.
In time I break despite my best try, in time I start to fade.
I feel a tear form neath my eye, but it runs not upon my face.
Something inside nothing is just nothing all the same.
Nothing is what I’ve become, as nothing, I was portrayed.