As I reach for this pen
I quiver
I don't know if it's from pure joy
Or embarrassment
Apart of me doesn't know
Where things went wrong
Did I lose my touch
Did I lose the one thing that gave me voice
Did I turn against myself
Am I my own worst enemy
What caused me to hang up
A passion on the shelf
And overload myself
With bullshit
That rains on my parades
Constantly have me reminiscing
About those days
Like what made me leave my diamond for a rock
With this much pressure in my life
A new one should have formed
When the fuck did
Not being okay become okay
Like when the fuck did I lose my ways
And gain
Nothing more but deserted days
When did turning away from my pen
Become okay
I am starting to think
I am more so of my own enemy
Than strangers I claim to be friends
They say keep your enemies closer
But little did I know I was sleeping with my enemy
In my bed
The place I used to love
But now hate
The enemy was looking me in my face
Every time I stood in a mirror
Sat my pen on the shelf
Because I thought I was better
At being something else
Here I am turning back to the girl
I used to know
Like what the fuck made me change
Do I truly know who I am?
Does this pen hide secrets about me?
Or does this pen hold magic
Because touching this pen
Finally helped air break in
Is this my asthma pump
Or the strength in my spine?
Like I'm not going to ask these questions
Try not to ruin my own high
Maybe this is it
Maybe this is who I am
But change is something I still don't mind
Just not this change
Because this is who I am
And I'm one of a kind.
