by Aiden Rose
It's hours past late
When she turns on the light,
She knows she won't sleep
When she just needs to write.
She doesn't know how,
But in the middle of the night,
Writing it all down
Makes it feel alright.
She keeps her feelings inside,
She keeps them locked up tight,
But she's not too blind to see
When she's losing the fight.
With her paper and her pencil,
Holding back tears with all her might,
She gives her pain a pair of wings
And lets her heart take flight.
A/N: Wrote this sometime between midnight and 2:30am, when I just couldn't stare at the ceiling and listen to myself think any longer. So if it's terrible that's why. As always, reviewers will get skittles, flamers will be made uncomfortable while we call them strange attempts at insults in languages they don't understand. ~Aiden Rose