I just realized that I’m always writing in my head. When people say something or when I see something and think of something, or read something, I am always ALWAYS writing poetry. It’s inevitable, it makes me high. It’s addicting, this whole writing deal.
So here goes again:
I’m lost, wondering where the sky flew. I like driving in the rain, I like sleeping in the rain, it gives me memories of embrace.
Sally ran a thousand miles, she saw a wall with 6 fingers, beckoning towards the unknown.
Bob said, “life’s a bitch, then you die”.
Harry said, “If life was fair, then I’d have hair”.
Sally replied, “I found the answer and I know it. I’m forever loved”.
She sang and sang and sang. Even if others told her no, told her off, stepped on her. She kept running towards the goal.
Sleep in peace, live in peace, Jesus says Sally you’re right, Bob and Harry, follow or get caught in shit. Self- pity is only downhill.
I’m only strong when I’m weak, I’m face to face with pain, that’s when I feel most human.
Don’t ever want to be a robot.
Then I won’t be able to smell the roses along this trip. Robots don’t smell do they?
Sally drew and drew. (not drawn by me, this girl drew this in Germany)