Trapped thoughts of you come to me
And I stop what I'm doing, I stop
I would never want to lose such a beautiful train of thought
It's this miserable curse I have
Where I write what should've been said
And it often comes to me in the night
When I'm lying in my bed
I'll write a couple lines real' fast
And then just stare at the wall
My mind being so full and blank
Of the day you ended it all
Doing the same sh*t over and over doesn't get me very far
For when I look at what I've written
I just start to hate my heart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem