Lost in a scribble, wanting everything to be organized
Searching in the dark going nowhere, feeling paralyzed
It seems so simple, trying to hold everything together
But all of it could crumble at any moment, with the weight of a feather
Nobody must see what lies in your depths
It will be a mystery to all through my dying breath
Walking on a bridge with two options to choose
I can make it across, or not follow through
It seems foolish to those who caught success with a dribble
But they color inside the lines, and I’m lost in a scribble.
My Life in Poetry 