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