Each strand seems longer than it looks
Your fingers with each individual strand, almost giving attention to each one
You whisper each word under your breath
Thinking no one will hear you, but I do
I hear your open thoughts
When you stomp your feet or tap your knuckles, you create music
You create an interaction
When you mutter small words to me
I think what you might be talking about
Your eyes create an illusion
Every time I see your baby blues, I question "why are they so blue"
Why are you so weird, you don't act your age
But you're wise
You know so much
You've been through so much
You're wise, but young
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
Each strand seems longer than it looks
Your fingers with each individual strand, almost giving attention to each one
You whisper each word under your breath
Thinking no one will hear you, but I do
I hear your open thoughts
When you stomp your feet or tap your knuckles, you create music
You create an interaction
When you mutter small words to me
I think what you might be talking about
Your eyes create an illusion
Every time I see your baby blues, I question "why are they so blue"
Why are you so weird, you don't act your age
But you're wise
You know so much
You've been through so much
You're wise, but young
Request permission to use this poem