I’m from where your opinions don’t talk too much. The news camera of your eyes have ideals I don’t recognize! I’m from where you try to personify who I am by turning a blind eye.
I hear silence in deep looks. You trying to comprehend the recesses of my mind?
Too shallow to play?
Seriously, can you handle where I’m from?
You have no idea how the ideas arise inside when open eyes. It’s high tide, yet the tides turn when thought levels rise. I look up and realize the disguise is my thoughts coming to life.
Life continues even through the falls. Do you know where I’m from?