Ink and Needles.

They only saw the bad parts
the forbidden thoughts
the escaped realities.
Hearing yourself speak
over and over again
in your alternate personalities.

Feeling pen on paper
feels good again.
Watching ink flood
into lines
seeping out thoughts
embedded inside minds.

I used to be angry
at a time when
anger used to mean something.
When words
easily spilled onto paper
messily scribbled
outside the lines.

Ink and needles
needles hitting
needles pressing
into skin.
Making pretty
coloured pictures
making permanent
designs.

Describing emotions...
Describing emotionless
drives.