Not my fault.
I say.
Not my mind .
They say.
🌌
No matter of how many. Things I keep thinking of one thing, or one memory keeps coming back to me.
It may happened before, and now I am replaying it in my head . where I am laying on a cold floor.
No sounds no air. Just a floor , so that I would my self compare. To what?
To nothingness.
To space.
To me.
And to nobody.
People would step on me thinking I might be the new art, the new side walk.
My knees would shake as before, I would still think over and over about the same thing , and the same perosn.
My heart isn't attached , but my mind is.
Wishing I could erase it, and start all over again.
