no truth can be told,
no lie can hold,
this mind I behold,
that melt my soul like wax,
and chop my thoughts like an axe,
like the sound from the a gun,
that made the bells rung,
and caught the attention,
and broke your ear drum,
words that are wise to some,
but left others lost feelin' dumb,
painting a picture with out a brush,
speaking loudly, but as silent as a hush,
these thoughts die daily,
but new ones are born like a baby,
and between the time of the sun rise,
before the night moon dies,
across the skies
my ink dries,
I move on to the next,
thought, and subjects
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