The unexplainable

She cries more than she use to.Longing for the simplicity that life would bring,maybe the light that shines on what could’ve been, to what has happened or what is now. The root to where her thoughts blossom and grow into vocalized beings that help complete every sentence that she speaks. Is She longing for a life she’s never had.
The problem isn’t the past,or the general “past” but what could’ve been done in the past to make the future she desires and begs for a whole lot easier to grasp at. What reason is for her complain about how things change,and what emotions are brung upon to her?
no..she speaks to help explain the how her mind is developing throughout the it boys or fear or imagination thats’ getting her through the years. She only can explain on topics that rain in her mind. Like this very one here.. how writing gets her through all her fears of becoming…normal. 
And how it is developing into a drive that she can no longer see herself much that shes’ deciding to adopt it permanently into her life and sew it on her soul as apart of me.

You are apart of me,like the blood in my veins pencil to paper, writer to desk, love and life recorded,till death and the imagination and bright ideals that trickle like water would a leaking sink,creating a puddle of someone to slip in and read.

Read a book..that i will soon create and one day this puddle of water will be cleaned,maybe from her face or the floor But one day she’ll be known for the best content to explore,then just maybe the unexplainable will be..explained.


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