Always searching for words to express how I'm feeling
but the truth is they never suffice
for each words that's written has long ago failed me
in relieving this tormented life
for each word I write, a part of my torture
though also, my pleasure to sew
contradicting each moment as it fades into memory
just like all the truth that I'd known
some words speak of passion, depends how I'm feeling
sometimes my words make me cry
sometimes my words will bring joy and laughter
sometimes the question is why?
