2madsmads

The world is limited. 
You’re not. 
They impose restrictions.  
Restrictions are your second thought. 
Has anyone ever met you and thought you were normal? 

If I were a writer, my words would flow right from my thoughts.
My reader wouldn't be confused, the meaning wouldn't be lost.

If I were a writer, I'd have a clear goal in my head.

I went outside alone one day 
And found you in an old tree’s shade. 
Your skin was soft, your eyes were grey. 
You never spoke until I spoke. 

I almost didn’t see you there 

From east to west, from sea to sea,  
The sun fans out her rays, 
And touches trees and mountaintops  
Awakening new days. 

The fields were soaked in starlight,  

Brown pig tails waving in the wind,  
Pink Skechers hitting the street, 
Little girl with one big smile,  
Her small hand clutching a treat. 

The suns shine bright upon Kirby, 

Soft little tapping, she tiptoes to bed, 
Pulls back the covers and slips both feet in. 
Darkness enwraps her, they’ve come to be friends, 
Giving her solace to dream and to rest.