This is for those who hide their heads and their hearts in the hoods of their hoodies
hiding from the peripheral world and sinking into their carpal tunnel world
who let the lyrics from Spotify vibrate their eardrums and drown out the days ambient sounds,
To those who are the sleepless that lie awake in their beds, staring up at that infamous popcorn ceiling.
Becoming lost within spinning thoughts as the giant crickets just outside the window
serenade with blue love songs as the glowing rock in the sky illuminates all the dreaming minds.
“This is gospel for the fallen ones, locked away in permanent slumber. Assembling their philosophies from pieces of broken memories…” – Panic! At The Disco
To those who’ve unstitched their hearts from their sleeves and tucked them away inside a titanium steel chest
so that no other swords may penetrate the scar graveyard and so the cracked heart won’t split any further
To those who are guarded and only reveal their true selves when the ink flows out from the tip of the pen onto a blank page
where letters form the words that form the true eloquence of the writer’s soul.
To those who are searching the woods trying to find the tree with the christmas tree door on it, to find our something more, to find our “what’s this”.