Memory Stash

I can hear the blood, Pulsing in my veins as I Turn the page over.  I sculpt my future,  With the tip of a plain nib,  I am carving stone.  I rest my chisel,  How many clean slates have I  blemished by tear drops.  The ink washes off  But the words remain etched in  The palms of my hands.  Nor fire nor water,  And no amount of soap can  Rid me of my fate.  However I must,  Hope for that tomorrow,  Persevere I must.  That moving finger  Has writ what it may, but I  Hold onto the pen.  I am not defined,  By but a single letter  Of the alphabet.

And everybody is asleep this time of the night, I am still awake. Because the sun is still shining so bright, On this gloomy Wednesday. And everybody knows how I cry, I am still alone. Because the sun is still shining outside. Everybody is home. And they all said their goodnights believing, I am still all smiles. Because they wished me a happy day. 'Ere they closed their eyes. When they wake up to wish me a good night, I will be all right.  And the sun shines brighter at night, Because now I know they are there.