Silent Comfort

Black ink from my reservoir pen,

twists on an uncontrolled surface.

Like a contorted vane too tired to revolve,

I compose in my head my last contentions.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.

For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.

My demons were not effortless,

a dark coil inside of me needed to be released.

It was like lacerating a butterflies wings.

I hunger for you to know I never meant to cease.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.

For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.

I recognize I don't need your absolution, and you don't need mine.

Take every segment of me including my love, compassion and voice

and transmit it to the masses. 

Find solace that I am now where I need to be.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.

For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.