is it a good thing
that my mind won’t shut up,
because it can think
of a lot of possibilities
that can be brought to life?
or a bad thing,
because it won’t let me
have a peaceful night?
it always has something to say.
from the swaying curtains of the window,
to the direction where the ant was heading;
it always tells me to write something
about almost everything
that i will see around me.
it’s like, i’m the witness
of how the world works
like one of the men who wrote
the holy book.
i can write a whole chapter
by just observing how the rain
falls, but i don’t think
it is something
that i should thank for,
because it is exhausting.
i can’t really remember
when i last closed my eyes
gently to take a good rest.
i can’t remember the last time i
comfortably leaned on to something
to take a short break
from everything that i do
and think about.
or did i?
because it won’t just stop.
the thoughts won’t stop bugging me,
they always have something to say.
being a poet is indeed magic
and curse intertwined.
YOU ARE READING
Found This Book Somewhere In The Forest
Poetry"Talk to my soul later midnight, when the moon's at its peak. That's the only way of communication that I know, because my physical lips will stutter if I told you about how I want to tear my human skin apart and go out."
