soft patter on rooftops
while I stare at the wall
thoughts running miles through my head.
slow down I mutter, but there is no use.
it's 1am but I seem to think I can change my life
defeat the demons reeking havoc through my mind,
conquer enemies in shiny armour.
overall I just think of reasons why I'm a not so good person
or what I need to change.
who I want to die,
who I want to live.
maybe one day I'll rule a kingdom
or maybe one day I'll die alone.
nobody ever thought about the people who manage both.
terrifying thoughts,
but equally satisfying.
it's at this point in the night when I write novels without paper
create stories without ink
flowing masterpieces never to be told
never even to be remembered
except in a fleeting dream
a simple moment
and then it's
g
o
n
e.
almost like it never existed in the first place.
is that what's meant of all of this?
are we all geniuses until someone tells us otherwise and we believe them?
when does it all stop.
when does it slow down.
why won't it slow down.
I just want it to slow down.