I Sew Blue

Is it really worth the ink?

Sometimes my pen will take me
Where I really shouldn’t go,
My thoughts will snag
On passing nails
Or open doors long closed.

I’ll put a run in memories,
As I go walking by,
Or pull the lids off subjects
I really shouldn’t pry.

I’ll tear the fabric
Of my being,
Just so I can look inside.
Or steal the keys
On my disease
To take my feelings for a ride.

I’m the one that really knows
What buttons I must push,
To end up boiling over
Or turning into mush.

I can stop my heart from bleeding,
Quickly change my tune,
Sew a dozen stitches
Or open up a wound.

Sometimes I have to wonder,
I really have to think,
Is it really worth the paper?
Is it really worth the ink?