Words that had been bubbling under his tongue spilling forth onto tear soaked pages. No longer parchment but the cheapest notepads he could purchase at the corner store. Messy chords and messier words that he somehow shaped into his initial songs that spoke of his deepest shame, regrets, and short sighted loves. Even musings from childhood, thought to be if not resolved then at least resolutely buried, poked their way through his haze of grief into the melodies.