I am a series of syllables,

Thrown together with whimsy and chance.

I am a sea of endless thoughts with waves so large they threaten to pull me under and drown me.

Words tumble out of me, a blunt instrument to push back at the world.

Confusion settles in me when I speak the truth and people scream as if they were burned.

And god forbid someone should ask a penny for my thoughts,

What else can I say other then I am at a loss?

My thoughts drowning me and should others want to peer inside,

They are not prepared for the unyielding tide.

Too much for them to process,

Too much for them to understand,

Too much for me to be “normal”,

Too much for me to be sane,

So when they leave and go on their merry way,

I turn to those who I know will always stay.

Who have peaked behind the curtain and looked deep into my mind.

The ones who didn’t turn and run away from the girl whose thoughts explode behind her eyes.

The ones that she knows will never curse her aside,

The ones who relish in the truth she refuses to hide.

I am nothing more then a series of syllables,

Nothing more then my loss,

And there is nothing more beautiful then these, my unfiltered thoughts.