Tants in my ear. Paper is mighter than your hateful dispostion

i know you can't see me turn the page, or write the words that spill the pain just today. i know you don't read me to, just like that , like you used to.  

a memory taht is all some of us have, of what's grand. it is this memory that takes us by the hand. it can give us peace or pain, but no matter what it's still there at the end of the day.

what justification can you give for hurting me, what reason can you lay down for this way in which you treat me? I thought not, you don't know the answer, to this or any other question, because you only think with your greed.

it is this path of the page, that you once used to try and hurt me. but i know the pages don't lie, and they have no greed or vegenfulful attitude or intent to hurt me, like you do.  their intent is only to record the written word, where as yours is to make everybody's pain hurd. as if we can be laid down and herded like cattle, and treated like swine. it is this path you set upon that makes your dirty words wash out like wine. my path and purpose are far above yours, and will bring me higher than you can take me down. it is this print, of paper that lets me live through your words, tants and lies.  Do not fear for i am here and not far behind. For it is not me who whispers tants in your ear.