My words are my thoughts,
My poems are my emotions,
They ask me to talk,
They tell me to speak,
What do I say ?
What do I tell ?
Myself - My soul,
All strained - all
burdened.
My being hides in my
thoughts,
on rainy nights under
endless droughts,
If I speak would my
words be heard,
If I sing would it
quench my thirst,
Sell my thoughts,
Sell my dreams,
If I do,
Will the price be
worth?
No, never.
No, never.