Pen And Paper.

Letters written as a symphony;
My dear boy listen to this melody.
You've a handful of heartache;
A mind full of plans.
I didn't know how wrong I was;
Till I saw the blood on your hands.

Notes scribbled as simple lyrics;
My dear child listen to this music.
You've a handful of headache;
A brain full of plots.
I didn't see how wrong I was;
Until I connected these dots.

This pen you write with;
It marks the letters;
Spelling out what you think.
But I can't help but wonder;
The day you'll notice;
That you've run out of ink.

This peice of paper I draw on;
All the words are well-kept.
But unlike your's;
I'll forever wish you could read it.

This pen you write with;
It marks the letters;
Spelling out what you think.
But I can't help but wonder;
The day you'll notice;
That you've run out of ink.