Picked up this pen to let my emotions flow down through,
Only to have the ink rush out onto the paper like emotions do.
Then I watch helpless as the ink comes into shape and form,
Words that I would describe me all together like a perfect storm.
I look down at my hand as the final drip of ink falls down,
As I rise from the chair looking for the person making me a clown.
Only to find myself alone at a table set for two in a empty place,
Walking away from the paper the ink forms the words Empty space.