Something different with this one – a poem I wrote a while back. It comes from a time where I was so inside of myself and hiding who I was. I’m not entirely sure what message I’m trying to convey, sometimes I think my truest work comes out unfiltered and straight from the contradictory brain that bred it.

If you can’t read the writing:

I think I am born into a strange thing

I think I am so sensitive of myself that I lose all my resolve

I think I’ve left pieces of myself behind, I think I am too kind,

I think I’ve lost time to be wordly and fall into crowd,

and lament the conformity,

I think of all the cryptic words and wish I could be more mindful of them.