plagarism

beyond the wheelwork and channels of my mind there is a place that lay vacant,

where my dreams exist in a thick fog of rememberence

 

looking behind never seems to quench that desire to feel what defines my soul,

yet lingering in those present matters requires a great deal of patience...virtues

 

feelings within my heart are rarely satiated due to lonliness,

though admittadly a simple walk seems to fulfill that desire to be moving forward

 

somehow there within my mind nothing seems to define how my heart feels,

where are those simple things that are supposed to define my private life

 

my hand only desires to speak with love about the depths of my imaginations,

mostly things that aren't real but certainly my desire is for her

 

even if the truth is that my lonely heart has a great deal of pain upon it,

greater attention should be given to those thoughts which pertain to love

 

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