Always trying to come to terms with the monsters in my head.
I would like to bask in my youth and the sun, to jump and scream and dance, but I'm trapped in my head. My thoughts write novels, but I remain silent to everyone else. I wake up from dreams that I'd prefer to my reality. In the secret compartments of my mind I hide lists and plans and wishes. If only I would find an escape route so that this commotion was reflected in the fresh air of the real world.
But then again, it's just a phase.
It may not even last until tomorrow.
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