I thought Life would be patient and, at the same time impulsive. That both would come at the same time to glorify your non-belief in the talismanic function of Life itself. That it would assure you every time you feel speechless, lacking the sense of existence. Astonishing the soul of the wanderer with theories when they would least expect it. I was a vagrant one. I was audacious and also a watcher, looking for that enigmatic spark only sapient souls knew the feel of. Wanting the desires of an ordinary and of a madmen; Life gave me that spark. Being patient and impulsive, Life took away what I had.
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A Wanderer's Theory
PoetryFirst poem I'm posting on to Wattpad. Short decent poem. Not much but I hope it gets you thinking If so, add it to your collection of midnight thoughts :) I want to be a poet.