My heart calls for...

20/5/11
And I write because my tongue is a bloody mess
and my fingers will be soon ‘cause I can’t fight this battle
with no bloodshed,
But my fingers have bones and knuckles and grip,
And I’m never going to let go of this,

So you can try and weave your lies,
And you can try and tell me that this world
is too hard to make it in as a writer,
There’s no call for, well my heart calls for
and for now, that’s plenty, that’s more than enough.

And I write because my heart is crawling onto my sleeve
and I hate to let you know what I’m thinking so I have to write
a little obscurely,
A riddle here and an embellishment there,
Sometimes I have to remind myself to come up for air,

So you can try and drag me down,
And you can try and tell me that this world
is too hard on every writer,
“There’s no call for”, well my heart calls for
and for now, that’s plenty, that’s more than enough,

And I write because it’s what I am inside this vessel
an emotional being with one thousand secret that my tongue
just can’t wrap around,
And my fingers do push ups to keep up their strength,
And sometimes I have to remind myself to filter my head,

So your negativity won’t wash off,
No it won’t wash off all over me,
I know there’s call for, I’m not the only heart
that calls for, and there’s plenty of beating out there,
So I know there’s call for.