Flooded with fantastic thoughts,
My memory can’t retain them,
my pen cannot complete them.
Fleeting revelations mend my soul,
but my mouth fails to convey them.
I’m meek, untrained to speak them.
I have no voice.
I feel more than my sentences,
I ache to pass them on!
But just before I write them down, they’re gone.
Realizations spill into my mind
then locked inside.
I speak ridiculously,
Out loud I hear someone … and it’s me,
poorly portraying me.