• myhomeismykpop 10w

    I don’t talk.
    My lips part and air pushes out,
    but the sound must not fit,
    because my thoughts are so big.

    So I don’t try to talk.
    My thoughts must be too good for
    words, for the air, for my lips.

    But they are just right for paper.
    My thoughts flow on paper.
    They are just big enough.

    So I don’t talk;
    I compose,
    I write,
    I dream.

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    dream only on paper