Trapped In My Mind; Still Wylin' Cause I'm Young

The feeling only intensifies
as the conversation grows into reality.

Hello, nice to finally meet you.
Oh, these eyes? These eyes are to remain hidden from the evils of the world, as is this soul. Sure, some may creep into my system on occasions, but what’s done is done.

I am not the one to fall in love with. I mean, I am, but I am not. Complications of a battered bird.

I could write you silly love poems on random days where I feel inspired by your being. Never done that before, but over time I’ve felt the sense that women seem to gravitate towards that type of affection. I have a way with words, so they say.

I could also be that great conversation that you won’t even realize that you fiend for, until you found me. Never did that before either, but over time I have realized that women unknowingly desperately desire the foundation of forever. An intercourse of the innermost thoughts, as I say.

And don’t allow my poetic dexterity to deter your perception of passion, the circle always completes itself.

But, girl, I’m just a bird…

For some reason I can not come to the conclusion of this mysterious center. Perhaps it may be the absence of attention. But, I’ve got no tats on these arms, survive purely off creativity and charm, and I give my heart and soul in these poems; just wait until you read these stories I’ve got. That’s my ambition. And some say that I’m gifted, but at times I still feel so incomplete.

I have had an intimate relationship on the deepest of levels. Through it all there are so many vivid memories of perfection. All of the smiles and the laughs. The routine nights out on the town. The comfy nights and days spent at home. Lounging around without care, knowing that as long as we are here everything sparkles and is perfect and nothing hurts.

You know what happened to that woman? Bad things. Terrible, unspeakable things that I feel guilt for. The realization that I played a part in the demise of a human life, just by simply being who I am, which is a deceptively sinister bird without sense of the reaction loved ones have to his unwittingly bizarre actions. For that, I am sorry. But sorry is nothing but a word to be spoken without merit.

Sadly, all that seems to come to mind these days are the images of a soul less complete. Thrown to the skies as a sacrificial lamb to the gods of love. Tarnished and tattered through feelings of abandonment and emptiness. If only you could see what I see.

Are you willing to put your life on the line for a mere mortal with big dreams and a vast imagination? I wouldn’t advise it, though the signs say these dreams are becoming more and more of a reality each day. Things are happening. But, life is strange, and nothing is for certain, even the illusion of an alluring demigod. I’d like to think that all sarcastic comments are accepted, even if not believed or understood.

I believe in a few things. Destiny is high atop the list as one of them. And I Know exactly what my destiny is, but the visions of a certain future blur at times. I can see the finish line, but the race itself seems to be captured in a way only Edward Morra could understand.

I guess what I am trying to say is, I don’t really know what I’m saying. But I hope this has been enlightening. Cherish this, for one day you shall look back and realize what I am truly saying. And it will literally blow you away, I’m guessing.