The ink from my pen, flows for thee, You're not here yet my heart beats spree. My lines for you flying around like a bird, Why am I always the pen never the words. Like the lyrics written for those ears, I keep floating around, wishing to be heard. But why is it only silence around mine? Why am I always the singer never the song. Like the sailor pulling the chains, I pull the red string anchor less. In the futile hope to hold the other hand, But it never tightens from the other end. In the front seat of the drama I wrote, The leads kiss each other after the choir. Oh do they know how this scene came to be, Since I can't live it so I bring it to life. I don't like smiling yet I mask my face, Reduced to nothing but a masquerade. Looking behind the faces of others mask, Why do I always see and never be seen. Like the painter painting his muse, I paint the empty canvas in red and blue. But why is it still so empty and bleak? Why is my art unable to show my pleas. I lay down as the dusk breaks, Gazing in the sky for the flickering waves. For my star is you who I can't find, Burning so bright in the dark sky.