water fell upon night caught in high beam light sleep hard dream lite wake up feeling uptight this strand got me making new plans going places never been thinking things never thought saying stuff never heard misspelling and mispronouncing words this kinda struggle is distrustful don't want affection don't want to cuddle don't do gatherings don't want to be in the huddle it's just too dang stressful head in a cloud mind in a bubble is it wrong to be right is it right to be wrong I tried em both and still in trouble laid on a pillow feeling like I landed on top of a rock trapped inside of a clock hit with the hands of time like a slap in the face too painful to turn the other cheek I'm done with this page hand me another sheet as long as there's below and above I aim to do that in which I love even though love is made up and a disguise is only makeup amid issues that fuel the flame that ignite the need to write it is quite agreed fire is the stuff poet's are made of and the illusion being the creation of time