There is a world inside of me, that is suffocated by turbulent waves, pleasant rain and an expanse of flowers.
I wish I understood the complexity its composition.
I wish I knew why the waves demanded to be to be moved by a force, I wish I knew why the rain trickled down without reason, and I wish I knew why flowers were destined to be plucked for a desire.
There is a world inside of me that is sempiternal, but oddly, underestimated. As it floods and erupts with the unknown, I struggle to define my symptom.
There is a world inside of me, that feeds on vexation, a blend of light and confusion. It demands to be felt, it demands to be seen.
There is a world inside of me that disagrees with its own matter, that loathes its very own presence.