When I find
myself alone
in a silent
space
I often hear
the sounds
of ideas and
thoughts
rumbling
around in an
otherwise
empty head.
I dream of
all the colors
that are too
difficult
for the
world to see,
today,
tomorrow,
or any day.
Pretending
that I'm important,
when in
reality,
I'm just an
imp,
a little
underestimated
imp.
I want people to understand
that I can
only touch
the scope of
the world
that I can
see,
and when my mind
is worn a
bit too thin,
it's often
only because
I'm buried under the work
that I
create for myself.
