Here I stand in front of you
carrying the worst bad news
But my tongue twists these terrible words
and it seems I have drawn a blank.
I am not just drawing blanks.
I frantically scribble these blanks, ferociously paint these blanks
with the paintbrush of my problem and the
paint of my regret.
And you look at me like I should have something to say;
your mouth is open and your eyes are wide,
but my paintbrush is moving
and it seems I have drawn a blank