out of ink (its mot poetry just words i did my best)

The lamp is dimmed at the night is awake

the words in my head long to claw their way out

to ease the pain i want to write 

the paper longs for words but my pen is out of ink

the clawing and gnashing grows worse in my head

desperate for relief I try to jot down the words i think

but the ink cartridge is dry

the thoughts in my head spill from my ears and my eyes 

the words spill out so much i could  drown in 

I longed to write down these thoughts to make a poem or a song

but they move by to fast to put together

for what I write is not a poem 

it is only words ive caught glimpses of as the glide past me

i look at my paper to see the beautiful masterpiece my agony gave me

my paper is now wet will all the words i have 

it drips with the feelings the spew from my brain

my paper is no longer dry its true

my paper is wet but my pen i didnt drew

my paper is wet by the ink still runs dry

its wet with the words and my feelings that pry

but the ink still runs dry