It's a skill.
To use a pen and a scrap of paper to form words or art,
To communicate messages straight from the heart,
Releasing the demons inside your head through ink and
grafite,
It conveys the cause of the twisted thoughts and sheds some
light,
creating a picture or a monologue of distress,
That what appears as a page full of mess,
To strangers it can look a tad obscene,
But to you it contains your nightmares and dreams,
A page filled with rubbings explains where you went wrong,
The repeated related lyrics from your favourite song,
combine it together and make a masterpiece out of corruption,
Let the emotions splurge out in a massive eruption,
They say to destroy something is to create,
So kill every thought, emotion and feeling of hate,
By writing down or drawing it to set it free,
Do it for yourself, not for your parents, lover or me,
You will murder the monsters that are in your head,
Set fire to the pages to ensure they are dead,
Only you will perceive the messages that are amongst the
smoke,
But don't breathe it in, don't inhale and choke,
Just watch the pain go up in flames,
Until there's none left, just ashes as remains,
It's a skill,
To use a pen and a scrap of paper to form words or art,
To communicate messages straight from the
heart.
