Strip away my title
Take off my name like clothes
Not like a gentle lover – rip them off and make a show
Tear me up like empty pages
Spill my blood like ink
Cast me off like unread books
And let my image sink

Pull down the idol you built up
The picture in your head
The person that you thought you knew
Might as well be dead

Nail me to my promises
I always went to break
Slash away my silences
Force me to stay awake

Choke my hands around a pen
Make me retch up all the words
Again, again, again, again

Pull out the words up from my throat
spread my guts out on the paper
Carve out each word and say I wrote
Not another book I’ll finish later

But don’t call me what I don’t deserve –
I’ll never be a writer.