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I started a stream on consciousness as my first bit of writing. |
| I started to picture my head as a bucket Every word that I write would splash Like a drop of water And my head feels empty now Which is something I always wanted I'm not sure I really like that Because I've gotten quite used to the noise And the feeling of being full I used to think of my head a prison Nothing could get in or out Thoughts dying before becoming ideas Words never becoming sentences And the only ideas that thrived Were ones that suffocated me And left me letter B's for bruises and T's and O's and M's and Y O Y can't I make any sense of it? |