A bleeding pen, a blood stained paper, and an open mind

Lost control and a torn sould pouring from inside

An open book, but unfinished page, in words forgien to my tongue

Music notes in heart beats played, while words of soul are sung

True obsessions, unfaithful loves scribbled down for all

Love filled hates and protective walls that never seem to fall

All witnessed though a median of what we seem to be

And heard though distant voices of an author's memory