leaning on the ceiling

Just as if the woods turn grey and dark

appears a warm sparkle in my hand

and everything seems to be

broken and made

confusing thoughts and

everyhting's leaning

on the ceiling

and it's noticeable

how the words in my head

trade with time

and have a game

which all leads to

the perfect solution

of how I'm just a child

lost in the woods grown by

my own attempts of

trying to understand