Poetry pours through my head,
I see and hear it in everything.
I find myself stuck in a broken moment,
Where all I can do is sing.
As good as things seem to be now,
The memory of the past can still sting.
Words are my only anesthesia,
And I only want to sing.
I'm scarred and bruised from battles past,
And tears accompany burst well-springs.
I find myself turning to beautiful ballad,
And I just want to let myself sing.
A few moments of comfort in trusted arms,
Sheltered under protective wing.
I'm able to release the pain of my heart,
Unburdened and able to gently sing.