Untitled and unfinished

I have hope,
When I hear songs streaming out the radio,
In perfect order.
Still skeptical,
Until my hand, heavy with words,
Lifts to this pad...
I will scratch these lines
Out on paper
So they stop screaming in my head.
I'll make a movie of my soul,
It'll play on all the screens,
I'll write a song from the soul,
And you'll know just what it means.
You'll make of it,
What you will,
You'll find meaning where there's none.
I'll let it replay in your head,
And watch pain come undone.