Imagine if you will.
One thousand, thousand birds,
Flying above,
A deafening cacophony of fluttering wings.
Each bird is a thought from your head.
And Imagine if you will,
You gatta look up,
And try and find and grab a thought,
So you can tell others what you think.
But all you can manage
Is a few feathers.
Half words,
Fragments,
Of what could be a beautifully constructed sentence.
So it doesn't make sense.
Not to you,
Not to who you're talking to.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
Imagine if you will.
One thousand, thousand birds,
Flying above,
A deafening cacophony of fluttering wings.
Each bird is a thought from your head.
And Imagine if you will,
You gatta look up,
And try and find and grab a thought,
So you can tell others what you think.
But all you can manage
Is a few feathers.
Half words,
Fragments,
Of what could be a beautifully constructed sentence.
So it doesn't make sense.
Not to you,
Not to who you're talking to.
Desperatly trying to explain what its like when I talk to people.
Its incredibly difficult for me.
By the time I actually catch a thought.
The conversation has moved on to something else.
And its no longer relevant.
