Something must've been up;
Awake mind,
Swirling thoughts,
Drowsy eyes,
A clean slate of blank paper, anticipating.
Waiting to be roamed,
To be written of,
Dedicated to,
To be filled with burning ideas;
Created from passion, feelings, or a collection of memory;
A form of language ought to be expressed.
Something must've been up;
A likelihood to sum all the feelings up.
The crowded imaginations,
Isolate it inside and buckle it up.
By that, for once, you know something's up.
You are aware and wary of your mind's eye.
Words were your kind of solitude,
Your winding thoughts were your enemy.
