Poems are written in words.
Pieced together with sentences.
And sustained with periods.
Black coffee kept me awake,
I was discovering myself in thought.
I felt my pulse.
"For once in my life, I felt it."
The cursive in my mind was confusing,
Usually it came with a vision, but this was different.
There was no meaning.
E
X
T
R
A
C
T
I
O
N
Opening myself to vulnerability,
Understanding knowledge was not a gift,
but an acquired taste.
We as humans have no true understanding of personalities.
I have spent years watching people,
Understanding people,
And learning nothing.
C
O
N
C
L
U
S
I
O
N
Happiness can be found.
Listen to the world.
When hope has eaten life,
You're left with one thing,
Truth