There's creaks from the floor There's chills down your spine A sense of foreboding It's the end of your time There's frost in the sill And ice in the...
The ideas are gone The inks run dry I'm no longer me without a pen The novels written The words are spent I'm lost, a traitor in my own skin This is...
Does what I say have meaning Does it really matter at all? Do you care what I put on these pages If I rise or if I fall? Are the words like a candle...
As a writer I see darkness in sunshine The world is a bleak mess I've absorbed all I've seen And all I've felt in these past years My soul is stained...