Tell me again, That I'm okay,
So that way, The pain can,
Drip down onto the floor,
And paint a picture of my pain.
Because No matter how I write it, 

On the walls, It never is the same.
As beautiful as it may be,
Each little stoke carries, Just a bit more than those,
Written with this old, Black blood pen,
Fueled by the dirtiest of my blood,
The letters,
Delicately placed, For reasons unknown,
With this sailing boat. Tell me one last time,
I'm okay,
Because every time I write, it is full of pain,
And if only I could get rid of it,
Dropping the pen, and letting it rain.
Tell me it's okay,
Because I can remember the light of day,
Even with all these clouds in the way.