I have trees in my head
Poking and prodding the inside of my skullcap
I don’t mind though;
During the autumn, the leaves fall to the ground
Fragments piling together and becoming one
So the gardener clumps the siblings together;
Where do i get my ideas?
Where there’s toothpick trees
The Sun remains static;
Tiny toothpicks in my brain
The leaves tickle and the branches scratch
It’s a beautiful forest;
Millions and millions of thoughts
Very few are understood individually
I'm thankful for that;
The answer is simple; it’s the forest
And a quiet gardener rakes
And leaves remain.
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