Sometimes I cant write what I want to say
My thoughts are as plenty as the stars
but shy away like broken dreams
so if my steps cast a shadow don’t follow me,
because I’m hollow sheets
just words on nature to capture everything
but I don’t even know all the words in the world
so how am I to explain the emotions
feelings either hidden or on the surface, its impossible.
unable to create with ignorance
but if I choose to learn its on me
unless I pay enough to collect investments
although my pockets stay priceless
my memories go wasted in trash bins
ready for recycle, and then I begin, all over again
write to the question that questions that one
why is the reason to live to find a lively reason
to understand that stand that’s under felt
or under handed, or just under the feet
of people who don't respect life
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