if pens were knives and clouds were stones,
buried alive i'd bleed alone.
watch the sun rise, she overthrows;
now you can hide or you can roam.

curse this page, naked to the bone
how do I turn ink into gold?
time to make the story unfold:
same old voice, a new shadow.

if all the words were tea leaves
they'd be my skin - just have to steep:
so give my body to the sea,
float in an ocean made of tea.