When the geometry of sombra seems to have a life of its own on the underworld walls, above the surface arrogance takes shape believing that it is more intelligent than, I, who can see the train coming. Uncertainty won’t bother impotence resting on earth’s shoulders, and Sleeping Giant can wait forever for the lost sailor. What a blessing!
Why won't these words release me? They abstract me in my mind. I will find internal peace if an exit I can find.
I'm sad. I should know why. But, to put to words, I'm not sure that I...
Well, you see, the way I handle problems, the way I come to grips, I put my thoughts to paper as if I pull them from my lips.
I read them, finding meaning; finding rhythm to my rhyme. But, this sadness that I feel, it just won't fit in metered time. When I try to let it flow I get a log jam in my mind. All I get is garbled senses with truth impossible to find.
Yes, all I do is scrawl confusion. Yet, maybe that will say it best. For, how can I divulge the answers* when I never passed the test.