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If I am forced to write in bold red
Then the skin on my finger will crack
And my life will leak until I have said
What needs to be.
But my resolve is frail.
I hide behind assumed insignificance,
Casting aside my intelligence,
Unwilling to take responsibility
For what I label as inevitable.
About the Black
It shouldn't be about the black.
If I am forced to write in bold red
Then the skin on my finger will crack
And my life will leak until I have said
What needs to be.
But my resolve is frail.
I hide behind assumed insignificance,
Casting aside my intelligence,
Unwilling to take responsibility
For what I label as inevitable.