Escape

I write to get away From the stress of my life everyday When the anxiety gets to be too much Pen and paper become my crutch I can't convey my feelings With spoken words Or fix myself with supernatural healing I can't fly away like a bird My thoughts are like the sky Sometimes cloudy and sometimes dark Soemtimes miserable and sometimes crying Sometimes sunny and sometimes clear The list goes on But I digress When the day has gone All I have is this piece of paper and pen I guess This thing we all live, called life Isn't as bad as we make it If we all took the time to lay down the knife And not cut and slit The wrists that hold our lifeblood Then we could see That all this is about creating And living to be free So stop waiting For something better to come along This is it, everything else is long Gone