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Literature Text
When I look at you,
I see something that I want to be true.
With the details thrown askew,
you escape my field of view.
Speaking the words a little too blunt,
this is how I end up getting burnt,
in this mixed up stunt.
You were supposed to be the fuse
to light my muse;
with no one accuse,
I guess this is my excuse.
When left to think about you
I am confused.
My heart and mind abused,
our connections too few .
Left alone amid the crowd,
this voice inside me screaming so loud.
Wishing you were around
not just a series of sounds.
I see something that I want to be true.
With the details thrown askew,
you escape my field of view.
Speaking the words a little too blunt,
this is how I end up getting burnt,
in this mixed up stunt.
You were supposed to be the fuse
to light my muse;
with no one accuse,
I guess this is my excuse.
When left to think about you
I am confused.
My heart and mind abused,
our connections too few .
Left alone amid the crowd,
this voice inside me screaming so loud.
Wishing you were around
not just a series of sounds.
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This name is hardly creative but if you understand that I am a photographer it begins to like a little more sense. I really don't remember writing this piece or why I even wrote it. I must have been pretty drunk that night.
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damn, i wanna get drunk soooooooooooooooooo bad