A flashlight shines into a notebook,
In the middle of the night, or morning.
Ink flows from a pen,
Describing useless knowledge...
Emotions are felt, not read.
Yet, we continue to slaughter them,
By using English to put heart into fluid.
Emotions flow...
Like the description of liquid ice.
The mind continues to wander,
But the fingers can only decipher so fast.
Even a picture can only go so far.
You can imagine or relate to sightings,
But you don't truly feel the exact,
Unless faced in the situation.
So why do we judge?
