Down again you pick up the pen. Afraid of your mind, unsure of the time. A penny for my thought? Every time you ask and I tell you I'm fine, I've been lying I'm slowly dying. But you'll never see that. You'll see my smile and we'll laugh for a while. But in the middle of the night when I'm out of sight, I take my out my pen. The times that I write and you think I took flight with all...