Coffee and Ink

Write, write, scribble, cry…

Write, write, scribble cry…

“Who wants to take this challenge up?”

Me, I won't let my ink dry.

I write; I finish; I edit; I cry;

I will bring these characters alive.

“And who wrote this piece of rubbish?”

Me, I won’t let my spirits die.

Bring them alive, bring them alive…

How can I pump them full of life?

I paint their past and dye their future.

They run in my head, twist and fiddle.

Change them, make them real…

How can I write like the ruler of Heaven?

“Whose monstrosities are these?”

Mine, I breathed them into life.

“Add more joy, happiness and love…”

How can I add those when I feel none?

I can create, I can stuff them with rainbows,

And slowly they will suffocate in love.

They walk the stage, my twisted puppets; 

Born of love and sadness abound.

They act, they cry, they make each other mad.

They claw, they gnaw slowly out of my heart.

“And who wrote this spectacle?”

Someone else walks on the stage, while I cry.

Write, Write, Scribble and Cry.

Pen in my heart, ink bursts out along my side.