sometimes
                                                       ­                         my
                                     ­ brain
                       doesn’t
                                                       ­     work

right
                                                ­                               and

                             my

                                              thoughts

     ­                                         scatter

               ­                                                    like
                               beads

                                     spilled
                               on
                                                              ­                 tile

floor

Tell me who you are.
Tell me what makes you tick.
Do you like the sound of rain?
Or do you prefer the sun?
Do you eat dessert for breakfast?
Or breakfast for dinner?
Is coffee what you crave in the morning?
Or is your first thought a nicotine fix?
Do you sleep peacefully?
Or do you lay awake tormented?
Do your skeletons dance in the closet?
Or do ghosts hide under your bed?
Do you prefer the storm?
Or revel in the stars?
What do you need to get through your day?
And do you think I could ever be one of those things?

All the words that I utter,
  And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
  And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
  And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
  Storm-darken'd or starry bright.