When will I stop reading things into every detail
Things that only flickered by in the minds of others
But to me they are enlarged and deemed important
Deemed vital for unknown reasons I'm sure will show
Reasons I'm sure will save the world or the universe
Or at least save me
I wonder if the insight will eventually break me down
When I realize there was never anything grand
about all those small things that no one ever noticed
Those small things that I lived for
Those small things that I breathed for
When will I stop hoping for the naivest of dreams
And when will I stop nurturing that little knot in my chest
That only unties at certain occasions
At certain inclinations
Are you even aware that I'm breathing
Are you aware what I read into everything you say
What would you say to me if you were able to read me too
Like I was an open book, kind of like you
Let's pretend I don't recognize this feeling
Pretend I don't know what path I'm going down
The highway to my own destruction
Neatly laid out under my feet
By my treacherous heart
I thought I had told myself I could be rational
I could listen to my own logic, reason and rhyme
But it seems I keep being unpredictable, untameable
Time, after time
When will I stop reading things into every detail
Stop intercepting every imaginary message
Sent down the imaginary tubes
Signed by the invisible
Signed by you
POET IN THE JAR
"When will I stop reading things into every detail
ReplyDeleteThings that only flickered by in the minds of others
But to me they are enlarged and deemed important
Deemed vital for unknown reasons I'm sure will show
Reasons I'm sure will save the world or the universe
Or at least save me
I wonder if the insight will eventually break me down
When I realize there was never anything grand
about all those small things that no one ever noticed
Those small things that I lived for
Those small things that I breathed for"
I like the way the poem evolves. It starts like this and then ends up somewhat different but makes sense and it's good that you just don't get stuck repeating the same thing with different words over and over again. And I tend to act just like that: overanalyze things that didn't even exist in the first place. So I know what you mean.
Thanks^^. Oh yes. I'm the master of overanalyzing things. I just wish you could know things for sure and that you didn't have to guess your way around obscure little signs from people that feel impossible to figure out... and that's basically what I wrote this poem about.
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