My Brain On This Day
The strains of the wind could not keep my lonesome,
The cotton grass could not put me to sleep,
The false solitude makes me miss,
The unimportant becomes something.
Indeed I realize,
The series of events that pulled over,
Touching the heart,
And leave a radiant trail.
Only time knows,
Why the noise of the afternoon makes me uneasy,
Why the silence of the night makes me nervous.
This is just a pen outpour,
Pouring the heart through ink,
But this is real,
Every time is always meaningful.
Glad jovial and sad,
Just a mere turn of events,
It all depends on our choice,
Attempt or destiny.
I choose to think and try,
I chose to write and speak,
I choose silence and move,
I choose silence and rejoice,
I chose that I had to choose.
This is my bulk ...
In my study writing the word ...
