When you wander, it's not necessarily because you're lost or because you're looking for something. Sometimes, it's like looking through an old photo album, wandering for the sake of discovering what has been there the whole time, like realizing you and your cousin wore the same yellow party dress, like searching the dusty corners of your being to find the place where your soul calls home.
They expect me to focus but no my mind is just full of you like a field of daisies in spring, rather its just a field of thorns with black sky lightning flashes memories that smell sweet as the daisies what the thorns once were.
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