Thoughts. Penny for the thoughts. I could live forever on those pennies. I ride a rollercoaster. This rollercoaster takes me up and down many times. It twists and turns me. Up, down, all around. I feel dizzy. I hold on the moments I feel a bit scared and confused. The rest that takes me through is my adrenaline.
My thoughts. My feelings. My eyes. The countless hours. The very short days. The undying truth that glows through. The back I turn. The smiles I smile. The tears that men don’t cry. The shoes that carry me through. I trip on forever. I trip on the paintings and portraits. The great silence. The massive communication within me. The "s" word, but not the one this world uses bluntly.
Being wrong. Thinking I am wrong. Finding out I am wrong. Finding out everyone else is wrong. Finding out that everything is wrong. Being right. Feeling good about being right. Finding out that everything is right. Finding out that the truth is always right.
To let go and to brush off is an art form. An art form that only a talented few have mastered. The rest only wish they could do this and some will never understand about this.
To hold within. To grasp and detain. To never let go. To let pass by. To stare at the brick wall. To slam a fist against the brick wall in vain. To tear down a wall. Victory comes unexpected, untold, unanswered for. Defeat comes well-known, well-told, and with a name. Something so precious. Something so admired. Something so wanted. Something so unknown. Its gravitational force pulls you in. The rest is up to you. The extra push in the end is not toward the core.. but against it. I need it. I want it. I have it. It waves on the palm of my hand. ”Hello. Hi. I’m right here.” Pass me by. Or stop by. Which will it be? Too easily told. Too easily given. Too easily believed. Too easily. And then... something not as precious. Something not as admired. Something not as wanted. Something still unkown... and left behind. A million miles an hour.
The heart. The soul. The feet. At the light, there is joy. In the shade, there is mystery. Too many layers. Too many walls. Need pennies. Much more pennies given truthfully from you. For these are my thoughts. Carefully outlined with my soul in each letter.
My thoughts.
My thoughts. My feelings. My eyes. The countless hours. The very short days. The undying truth that glows through. The back I turn. The smiles I smile. The tears that men don’t cry. The shoes that carry me through. I trip on forever. I trip on the paintings and portraits. The great silence. The massive communication within me. The "s" word, but not the one this world uses bluntly.
Being wrong. Thinking I am wrong. Finding out I am wrong. Finding out everyone else is wrong. Finding out that everything is wrong. Being right. Feeling good about being right. Finding out that everything is right. Finding out that the truth is always right.
To let go and to brush off is an art form. An art form that only a talented few have mastered. The rest only wish they could do this and some will never understand about this.
To hold within. To grasp and detain. To never let go. To let pass by. To stare at the brick wall. To slam a fist against the brick wall in vain. To tear down a wall. Victory comes unexpected, untold, unanswered for. Defeat comes well-known, well-told, and with a name. Something so precious. Something so admired. Something so wanted. Something so unknown. Its gravitational force pulls you in. The rest is up to you. The extra push in the end is not toward the core.. but against it. I need it. I want it. I have it. It waves on the palm of my hand. ”Hello. Hi. I’m right here.” Pass me by. Or stop by. Which will it be? Too easily told. Too easily given. Too easily believed. Too easily. And then... something not as precious. Something not as admired. Something not as wanted. Something still unkown... and left behind. A million miles an hour.
The heart. The soul. The feet. At the light, there is joy. In the shade, there is mystery. Too many layers. Too many walls. Need pennies. Much more pennies given truthfully from you. For these are my thoughts. Carefully outlined with my soul in each letter.
My thoughts.
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