thoughts into ink

I sit at night racing thoughts consume my head. 

I think so much , but my SCREAMS seem to be silent, cause nothing is ever said. 

Seem to be filled with pain & grief and heart felt regret.

If it was left up to me , suicide or the reaper either way the odds seem to favor my DEATH. 

So instead I write till my hand hurts or my pen drys of ink.

I swear I'd never see the day of light.... if people only knew or heard what & how I think.