Thirty-three, You might as well call me Alice in wonderland because I fall down rabbit holes in my mind and time feels like it's slipping through my small hands Maybe I'm just mad and maybe all the good ones are Maybe its just that pain is never too far and how much are we to bear maybe the unmad ones are the ones that don't care
Sometimes I even descend into another land this one is filled with a version of you unhurt unbroken so I like to stay there I lay under the trees and breathe in a crisp breath by the white pine trees a forest where I'm free to believe in what I see
Am I fading? Or is there more to lose before I grow too big or too small maybe I just don't want to choose Because I feel it Time. It feels like a ghost every night haunting me and you
No, I can't accept your batch of 'top contributor' one swallow doesn't make a summer I'm but a winnow meandering over a limited space but exulting as a free fellow
only a faint colour in life's canvas but I am no painter
only a passerby a traveller a voice unheard well aware life's a brief play and too soon the show will be over
