There to the side is that pen and paper.
It's been four weeks from the last letter,
and I can't bear the though of knowing.
That every word I write goes unheard,
Unspoken unvoiced I write and write.
And every time I turn around the same thing is said.
I got your letter today.
I had to put it way.
your word say the same thing they have always told me.
I told you I was done with this pain I've pack my pens and books up.
This is me writing you and saying good bye.
this is my last letter I sent out today.