there are days my words seem lost.
the way i picture it is like the changeover in the films where (a) the dusk creeps in, (b) the audience has no idea what's really going on, and (c) i was found situated in the middle of a forestㅡdirectionless, aimless on trails to lead me out of where i am.
despite, i have a choice.
to shout, that is.
"please come back to me!" i screamed at the peak of my lungs. "where are you?!"
i heard a flip.
"write here," my pad paper blurts.
YOU ARE READING
To Go Fly A Kite
PoetrySet forth in a lie-low setting, To Go Fly A Kite is a mischievous compendium of poems and prose tackling explorations on what it's like to tightrope between going all out and giving it all in.
