as i get older, it became more lucid, that even though they call me stupid, they would never comprehend what was going on in my head
most time when i retire to my bed, thousands of desires wanting to be fed
but i understand that human longings are not to be bound
thousands of words lost but are yet to be found
when the words crawl in i adhere to the sound
the effortlessly flow of the words are the ying to my yang, the rhythm to my blues. i wrote them down in my note as there was nothing to lose.

© Steph