I wish I could squeeze the clouds And hug the moon. But what would I come away with? Soaked lifelines and tremulous fingers? Or a guide to this realm of reality?
Plant the seed of who I once was, During the next full moon, When the tide of emotions are pulling in the lost souls into the sea of existence that I am submerged in.
I h a v e f e e l i n g s that form thou ghts, that form words, that form sente nces, that form rope, which ties itself into a noose. Your words are also a rope, that saves me from drowning.