I heard you
screaming without any words

I felt you
thinking you were walking all alone

I tasted
your chance given to me to come into your life

I looked at us
while we were falling in love

Words are the instruments
By which we form all our abstractions,
We   fashion, embody our ideas,
In which we are enabled to move,
Along a series of conclusions,
With a rapidity so fast,
With no trace, of the successive steps,
We remain unconscious,
How much we owe,
To this auxiliary, of the reasoning faculty.





                                                   ­                                                                 ­               Tom Maxwell ©
                                                               ­                                                                 ­   06/15/2020 AD
                                                              ­                                                                 ­    11:00 AM

Jealous of the people before me
and how they made you feel
It's in the past, a previous life
secretly wishing they weren't real

You wouldn't be who you are now
so it doesn't make sense
but their names, experiences...somehow
they make me angry and tense

in the depths of unsurance we suffer painfully  
the debate on what is best and what is not eats us up alive
crawls through our veins in every last corner of our body  
causing endless torture making us question our own being