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my ,skin
As I walk, marks fall on my skin. As I talk, words float like a bird in the wind. As I like, my soul burns like a small fire. As I rend, my mind suffers out of pain. As I learn, my soul learns. As I grind, my mind rewinds and I climb. As I find nothing to excite the senses, I'm blind, but my mind looks onward. As I hinder my success, it still finds a way. As we hold together, a piece of your soul becomes me. When my words reach the whiteboard, you see them as fleeting pictures of your reflections of reality. The mind is born backwards, but grows up forwards. The self is lost to confusion. The mind is impossible, so you can think of impossible things.
© TLTSU Samuel H Hunwick
© TLTSU Samuel H Hunwick
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