There\'s a point to my writing I can\'t seem to find
I study these words and how they\'re designed
Each sentence is born within depths of my mind
In attempts to reflect the Shadow behind
From people now gone to the pain of mistakes
These lines I have drawn retell all the breaks
But none can re-spawn what reality takes
And before every dawn my Torture awakes
These words can\'t undo the choices I\'ve made
These words that are new can\'t brighten the shade
And these memories of you are never to fade
And the love that once grew has long since decayed
All the words that I dress in meaning so Black
Are they meant to express or meant to bring back?
Are they meant to confess or fill in a crack?
Are they meant to oppress or meant to attack?
I can write all day about pain that I feel
I can find a new way to word what is real
I can beg you to stay so that I can heal
I could even pay for the words that you steal
But these words that I write can\'t bring back the dead
These words that I write can\'t erase what I\'ve said
These words that I write won\'t replace all I\'ve bled
These words that I write can\'t kill Demons I\'ve fed