She was strange to others
but she is living her ordinary
writing her world
a world symphony
a strange ordinary
she was lost
not in life
lost in words
her ink would glide across
creating a new campus, a new world
one to get lost in
to be ordinarily strange
and get away with it
the paper is her life
the pen is her
(rhyming) words
secrets being found
art
a new language
she may be strange
but this is her ordinary
a strange ordinary
where getting lost is the best way to be found
in this strange ordinary world
when the sky falls
and darkness rises
she finds peace
and she can she her best friend again
the moon
you will often find them talking
speaking the language of silence
and watch her find answers in nothing but darkness
and creating a strange ordinary
where words rhyme,
getting lost is being found,
the moon talks
and you write your story
the perfect ordinary
so perfect it's strange.
