The Paper & The Pen

Yep, it's true,
I write a lot.
But most of the time,
It's all I've got.
Sometimes I think
That no one's there,
So when I feel
Like no one cares,
I run to this:
The paper and pen,
And I write until
There's nothing left--
Until the hole
In my heart is gone,
'Cause the hole became words
On a paper I wrote on.
Yeah, it's sad,
'Cause flip through the pages.
I've been writing
Since 'long ago' ages!
So doesn't that mean,
Since there are so many rhymes,
I've had no one to go to
This whole time?
Maybe I have,
But let's just face it.
I depend more
On pieces of paper.
I wish I didn't,
Trust me, I do,
But I don't wanna throw
Every problem at you.
There's already enough
Of a burden on your shoulders,
And adding mine
Will just push you over.
And you say I have
A gift at writing,
But don't you know
It's a gift I'm fighting?
From the pen
Most sadness flows out
And that's a 'gift'
I can do without.
...Though without my 'gift'
I'll have nowhere to turn.
So where will I go
To prosper and learn?
Well, I'll say it again:
Let us just face it.
I depend more
On pieces of paper.