There's a story I was meant to tell

Paper left for me bleed

My pen's ink on

Ideas swirl around me

All of them my own, untainted, pure

I taste the words inside my mouth

I cannot hold it in

Maybe they are not to be said

But left for someone to read

Someone who I'll never meet

Whose opinions I'll never hear

Let this give me courage

My own unpopped self-esteem

That can only be broken by me

My own feelings, original, free

Fall off my hand, staining color

That was never there before

Saying ideas that were never said before

Because they never let me speak

If there was somehow no paper in this world

No utensil with which to write

I would write with my blood

Staining the walls with myself

For there's ink in my blood

Creativity flowing

All writers have it

I'll write with my inkblood

My dreams, my world

For there was a story I was meant to tell

And nothing's going to stop me

Paper left for me to bleed

My pen's ink on

Ideas swirl around me

All of them my own, untainted, pure

I think I was meant to be a writer.