Sometimes I wonder what it is all about. Brick walls are there to bash your head against. Who really cares anyway?
Wrote a poem that sums it up, in a way.
It's not my mess this life
When we do as others ask
Time flies
The morning breaks nights still
Promising a wondrous day
How shall that be filled?
With the mundane of existence
Selling my soul for another's tuppenny demand
Push aside the piles of other people's dreams
Find space to write sparse words
Not in anguish or pain but to explain
Desire
Time shadows the need to express
For days to watch the grass grow
To hear birds chattering delight as
Walking with my misty outline
The world knows which way to go round
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