I write like every thought is a mouthful

So as not to miss anything

For I cannot bear to be misunderstood.

Puzzle pieces scream, pissing off

Even the patient man.

Do you see what I see?

Sometimes I think

It's not so much an act of faith

As it is desperation

Filling holes with solid ground

So as not to fall in on myself.

Just because there's an empty space

Doesn't necessarily mean

Something is broken.

It seems more a choice of obstacles and

Having the wisdom to know when

To take an alternate route.

We're all trying to find our way home.