You hand me a Piece of dotted paper and a pen
And you tell me
To connect the little black dots
But as I look at the paper it expands
It grows and stretches till it is an ocean
Massive expansive and the dots drift farther apart on the waves
And I lose them among the ocean spray
So when you hand me the paper and a pen
And expect me to connect the dots
Sometimes I'm being tossed in a storm
And sometimes connectivity is not a possibility
Sometimes I can't do what you ask me to
Because to me the dots are an ocean apart
And I've no clue how to sail.