Make her ill, she sighed, pecking at the sides of her mind.
Make him ill, the sky replied, thoughts thinking of time.
She nodded her head either yes or no, nobody can tell for sure.
For one's actions are justified only to the blurred eyes.
Ah, yes, sweet, burdensome blurred eyes. What a plain sight of vision, what a horrid circumcision.
The circumcision of thoughts.
Oh haven't you heard?
Each brain comes with its own special thought generating contraption.
Yet somehow this gets subtracted; circumcised from creation.
Most people are like this, don't fret.
More than ninety percent, I'll bet.
She wrote these words, in tightly bound books,
She wrote these words, for herself and not for looks.
this girl in the rain,
she sits
and she stares.
YOU ARE READING
Words
RandomCome with me on a journey like no other. Take my tour of life, see the universe through a different eye, experience death once again without the bitter regret. Follow me, my friend, and become happy once again.
