Gandhi's words sit in the back of my mind.
I keep them there just in case someone is in need of inspiration.
My mind is just a child's piggy bank.
collecting a penny a thought on the inside
collecting a layer of dust on the outside.
a result of being unused.
I don't remember what it feels to have new thoughts to come inside.
I don't remember what it feels like to become rich in thought.
I yearn for the sound when something new is received.
"clink. clink. clink."
That is the sound of my dreams.
I feel like I should do something with my thoughts.
I feel like I should share the wealth.
But I keep forgetting how to voice my opinion.
When I open my mouth I expect rainbows!
but the only thing that comes out is vomit.
real vomit. word vomit.
whats the difference?
They are both unwanted substances.
When will we own ourselves completely?
most definitely not now.
The world is not ready for me to own my vomit words.
So I will stick with those painted pink pony words.
that make so many happy.
And then I'll put back my piggy bank.
put it back in the back of my mind.
because the world isn't ready for it yet,
but tonight is not the last time it will see the light.
