Lost in the cold
void of space to
bind
getting tossed
upside down like
some forcelly rolled
coin
rearranging
thought to resemble
the next move in
time
hoping to find the
truth about this
unwanted pain of
mine
feels crazy to hear
the very voices of
this blindly running
night
It’s better to write
some rhymes until
everything comes out
of this goddamned
mind.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s really going on inside this mind because sometimes it’s really nothing, then the things we really don’t want to spill about.
poetry 