truth be told, I am not that bold. It is a jab into my eye, a reality full of lies that my mom blames this distress. Hold on, I can't tell black from white. Might as well be blind, I can predict even the scenic route that people doubt. My whereabouts are no longer in a crowd, standing with witnesses is unhealthy for me. I want privacy, isn't being alone key anyways? Who is to care if I write "Beware" or just stare. In the end, there is this sentence left to bare. Always interpreting the language I so rarely speak. Energy may flow for others, but I am not a plug one can spark by lousy remarks.