I play my favorite song and i grab my pen
I wanna empty my chaotic head
Words frisk around words. Thoughts scream to be heard. Memories weep to be replayed. Dreams stir to be noticed.
So many colors to choose from. So many blues, so many reds. Too much black and too much purple. But my page remains as white as snow.
The contradictions are embedded everywhere. I cannot tell where the storm is headed anymore. What is it that im feeling, and what is it that im forcing myself to feel?
I lean back and i let the lopsided waves of my head wash away all the pretty words i had summoned. And once again, i am left with incomplete sentences and empty words.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 1:46 PM UTC
I play my favorite song and i grab my pen
I wanna empty my chaotic head
Words frisk around words. Thoughts scream to be heard. Memories weep to be replayed. Dreams stir to be noticed.
So many colors to choose from. So many blues, so many reds. Too much black and too much purple. But my page remains as white as snow.
The contradictions are embedded everywhere. I cannot tell where the storm is headed anymore. What is it that im feeling, and what is it that im forcing myself to feel?
I lean back and i let the lopsided waves of my head wash away all the pretty words i had summoned. And once again, i am left with incomplete sentences and empty words.