I Have a Tendency
Why do I want to
move mountains for thee,
more than wanting to
move a feather for me?
I like to read, roam, ruminate and then write.
Why do I want to
move mountains for thee,
more than wanting to
move a feather for me?
They say it’ll be alright, ’cause hope is a comforting thing.
But what good is the light at the end of the tunnel, for the hearts that are aching?
The whole world wants to decide
how much I should and shouldn’t feel
like there is some metric to adhere to.
can you hear the voices
of the storms in my eyes?
or can you hear
the melody of mischief
and chirpy delight?