Born by paper and ink
My life was just pitch black never finding out who I am.
Always woundering the halls alone and confused.
Nothing seemed to make any sense to me.
Nights where I found myself staring out in the star.
Trying to find out what I am.
Hallways that seem to have no end.
Like I'm trapped in an endless maze.
I turn here and I turn there.
Like in life I'm in a battle zone.
Being pulled by shadows that want me to do this or that.
As if I was some rag doll with my mouth sown tight not a word leaving me.
How did I come to this world with out knowing who I am.
Who is my mother who is my father?
Did I even have a mother and father?
If I did won't they tell me who I am?
No I think not I need to find out on my own.
But then it hits me like lightning!
Then hallways seem to come to an end!
At the end there is a woman with writing on her gown.
While a man in black suit stood along side her.
Why others are born by sleep.
I was born by paper and ink.
Might seem weird right?
WRONG!
I was born to write!
My mother is paper while my father is ink!
A poet and a writer I was born that is my talent!
I talent that lets me tell my story in simple words.
Always woundering the halls alone and confused.
Nothing seemed to make any sense to me.
Nights where I found myself staring out in the star.
Trying to find out what I am.
Hallways that seem to have no end.
Like I'm trapped in an endless maze.
I turn here and I turn there.
Like in life I'm in a battle zone.
Being pulled by shadows that want me to do this or that.
As if I was some rag doll with my mouth sown tight not a word leaving me.
How did I come to this world with out knowing who I am.
Who is my mother who is my father?
Did I even have a mother and father?
If I did won't they tell me who I am?
No I think not I need to find out on my own.
But then it hits me like lightning!
Then hallways seem to come to an end!
At the end there is a woman with writing on her gown.
While a man in black suit stood along side her.
Why others are born by sleep.
I was born by paper and ink.
Might seem weird right?
WRONG!
I was born to write!
My mother is paper while my father is ink!
A poet and a writer I was born that is my talent!
I talent that lets me tell my story in simple words.