Pen glides on paper,
Swift and elegant.
Words form from the red ink,
Expressing my emotions.
Seeping from me onto the paper,
Draining me of the negativity.
But more fills the hole,
It never seems to end.
Faster and faster I scramble,
Forming words on the blank sheet.
Still it's not enough,
The sadness is still there.
Writing has been my relief,
My release from the pain.
But it never truly saves me,
The darkness always returns.
There will always be darkness,
Wrapping me in its cold embrace.
No matter how I try,
I can't escape it.
I am Dark Inside.
