The Chaos Inside.
Absurd may be the tale I tell
Ill-suited to the marching times
I loved the lips from which it fell
So let it stand among my rhymes
It is difficult to get a hold of what's going on inside my head. I do not talk much. Maybe that is why I find it so difficult to marshal my thoughts. When I put it out on paper, it somehow starts making a little sense.
Sense calms me down. It tries to settle the chaos inside my head.
Not too much, mind. 'Cause that scares me. Too much sense can get too boring too fast.
I let the chaos rule my head. The whirlpool of words and voices makes me feel alive.