Swaying with voluminous reddish-green trees
Under the cerulean sky
Now, I do not know how to be something they miss
The alien rebel with halo has wings but oftentimes fails to fly
A closed book with open pages
What you see is not always what you get
Contents are written by the being that is careless
There is so much that you did not know yet
I am not your typical paradox poetry
So, how about you?
Well, are you with me?
Should my alphabet tones got messed up, I think it is fine to be critiqued by you
My mind is either an ocean or a shore
Overthinking while swimming through my useless thoughts
Underthinking in spilling significant points, more and more
My inward eye is already surrounded by moths
It is not only the tongue to serve words on the outside
Now, go find the key
While brain and heart continue to shout out the invisible words from the inside
You might take a peek to the diary of me
© Aebby
