Just Like Me

The silence is deafening in a world full of words, those ones that eat and pray on you.

those ones that beat.....and beat...and beat....

Do you hear them in your head? i hear them too... they tell a tale of hurt and sarrow biting the hand which you reach out...to touch, to grasp...something, anything.

As the paper flies and words, the letters! they spill like a fountain onto those papers. A fountain of feelings, of...imagination. 

If only you could hurt like me, stand in the path of violence like me. scream with no noice like me, and watch your blood boil right out of you just like me. You hear those voices? I hear them too. 

They say bad, horrid things, and so the paper grows wings, the pen breaks with antisipation and leaks its inky blood. The scribbles form and die and reform again. Over and over....it is never over.

If you could only feel like me, see like me. know things like me. You would write, and imagine, and dream...just like me.