Thoughts and Poems are the Same Thing

Fog

Sometimes I feel like

being alone is right. 

Like I want to bike

far away out of sight.

There's this dialogue 

inside my lonely head,

I'm engulfed in fog --

I never rose from bed. 

I don't want to leave;

I like the inside jokes

I have...but they're naive,

trapped in inner smoke.

I must break free from

my own self-centered mind.

From the endless hum

telling me not to find. 

Not to find people

who will always love me --

we are all equal,

searching for one who sees.

One who can see me,

besides my own conscience.

'cause becoming "we"

is true existence.

Living in my brain

would be very boring,

even without pain,

I'd rather be soaring.

There's a whole world out there. 

Don't get lost in your own fog.