Suffer the pen
That has to write what I say,
Suffer the words
That have to serve my brain,
Suffer the light
Serving the dark
It seems unworthy
Of this task.
Wounds open and bleeding,
Made worse by the day,
Silence will eat me,
And relish my pain.
All of my deamons
Come back again,
These are the words
That I can not say.

Mathew Lewis

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/untitled-57/