We walk past each other
with little contact,
physicality, odor, sense,
yet the eyes,
look inside my soul,
question my reality,
am I here along with you,
How is it possible we lose sight
undeniable tones
(part 9)
-end-
I'm a teacher, again
To me writing is currently a release. I haven't quite decided to what degree it is I'm searching within my words, yet, I feel something matters somewhere, right?
