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| Take a piece of me, throw it down to paper, clumisly try to explain myself, what I mean- what I am. the lines merge with pen, filled with random thoughts, pretences forgotten as I write, what I fear- what I dream. Continue writing, as the night drags on, the paper runs out, so does the ink. it's too soon- I'm not done. I stare at the writings, I gaze yet see nothing, how can this possibly end? if this is my soul here, my "legacy" of sorts, then this is simply a way to begin. |
| Writing as I Go. |
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