My mind is on a mission.
My fingers ,being it's slave.
The words , they keep on coming,
going , and fleeting away.
I try to hold them on
wishing them not to go.
But they run, away from me,
for the next ones to greet the warmth.
And anyone can feel this.
The fire that is inside.
To a person or a memory,
There's no use, so don't fight.
The truth can scream so harshly,
yet be quiet as it goes.
As it is slipping from my mind.
Freedom is all she knows.
And only when I try,
to place words for what I think.
They never come to me then.
Never. That is their trick.
And I tried to say I care for you.
But the sounds did not erupt.
It had been so colored in my mind,
but my tongue, is in a drought.
My heart was beating loudly,
urging me to let
all the words and all the feelings
I never wanted to admit.
I can never say that I still miss you
or that your name , I will not speak.
My mind is over burdened
by the people I didn't even meet.
