I sit infront of this screen,
Thinking of things to do and I dream-
Of things that come true in my head,
Hoping you could see them by fate.
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# Your voice.
Monday, January 10, 2011
I am going to write a poem.
--
Your voice it rises, It's so loud that the sound waves sweeps the dust-
The dust that is left on the old hour-glass.
I was counting and counting how long this single heart beat of care would last.
I was shock that that beat went by so fast.
Like a math problem I cannot solve.
Like that single salt that cannot dissolve.
It is difficult. It is outcasted.
It is left alone, and no one could be bothered.
I need something to get away from this mess.
I need something to remove my brain from my chest.
I'm calling. I'm calling. I'm calling for help.
I ask myself, "Could this be a test?"
All I need is understanding.
All I need is you to read me carefully like a book.
Read me with your heart.
Understand who I am and what I am from the start.
--
Bye bye.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
