sometimes i look back at my poems and they read cheesy
was that how i felt during the moment?
i cant tell if my brain has become solid
it used to flow so easily
like a piece of moss on sand
taking up every movement on the beach
feelings, endless like the sky
expressions, giggles and tears i cry
like the highest cloud
and the deepest sound
from a car with windows rolled down
now i try not to think too much
but that also means i have less to say
in my poems
that could just be random rambling
if i look at it that way


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