These Words That I Write

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