Your poison is your underestimation, 

Calling everyone who’s anyone crazy.

And then you curl up like a ball of wool,

Hoping you never have to unravel, untangle.

Life imitiating art, the digital age is the voiceless tyranny. 

Now the world is shut behind walls and doors.

But writing fictions is hard with reality staring in your face. 

What I lost–did I lose it for ever or for now. 

Longing to not be alone,

Longing for a feeling I’ve never known. 

Only the birds really can dance in the air. 

They’ve seen heaven, they know GOD and they look ahead not below. 

You cannot really make sense of all this, 

So the best thing I can do is make meaning out of this nothing,

For it makes me feel close to the LORD, who created a world out of a void. 

Did all your problems walk away when you told you story?