...So I Write

So I write... Even in this world despite my meaningless less expressive self... I write. Declined in hysterical, faultlessness... I write to refill plentiful emptiness's. Now what successes will my manuscripted- selfless-self achieve? Pages written solemnly based on critical theologies, the "I gotta have it technologies", burnt bridges I crossed, and Jesus crucified; that which I truly believe. Particularly like birds sing happily-freely, yet underachieved. Yet pronouncing” I am stretching wings". As a confident wind blows It's own flow throughout bureaus of grasses. Alike, Mrs. Mother Earth allowing her seasons be passive. I write, Being intrigued by what might, happen. As an eye, leading the soul, a heart searching, buryied abuses, grasping. Across a script denoted by way, of a poets pen tip. Perhaps this frivolous script, possess seeded enunciation's congested with spiritual worth So words read here; be basis for a total rebirth. ...so I'll write.