Words.

The words flow from my pen,

But stumble from my lips.

What’s the simplicity of writing on paper?

But in real life, I need a million scripts.

The thoughts overflow my brain;

They drive me insane.

But the words don’t come easily.

They don’t come much, nor ceaselessly.

At least I have this paper and pen,

So I’ll use it as my escape, again and again.