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I sit. I sit in a pit. I sit in a pit of darkness, Filled with voices wanting to know where my heart is. They scream, "you're heartless, you're careless, you never shed a tear!" I scream, "I have a heart, I love, I hurt, I feel, I feel love and hate and pain and fear! When the voices stop I'm left to think. So I think. I think , "am I heartless? I can't be...can I? Am I careless? Do I really not cry?" All these though run through my mind. No matter how hard I try. I can't control it. These voices aren't kind. The voices are back. They're louder this time. They scream, "You don't love, you don't feel! You mean nothing if you can't

I hate blank pages. Blank pages represent what I cannot express. They show what I resent, the blankness of my mind when I cannot find the words that lead to success. I hate blank pages. Blank pages represent the unknown, the answers you want to know but never will. Even as my words fill these pages, I could swear, my mind has already blown. Blown into pieces I cannot hope to fix, Maybe, fixing is overrated. Broken thoughts and broken people tend to mix. Maybe, blank pages are underrated    I do not hate blank pages. Blank pages make me think the thoughts i’m scared to think. Thinking frees the mind free from its cages,