Deep thought is within my grasp
Only sparingly.
Mostly I am flat on my face,
Eating dirt.

I've really become friends with the worms lately.
Actually, they've become my only friends.

Sometimes I find myself flat on my back
Staring up at the clouds
So deep in thought,
That I can't even tell what I'm thinking.

Sometimes I watch the people that I call my friends.
I see them smile and laugh
And I hate this feeling of loneliness
Which overwhelms me.
Because I am nothing but an outsider,
Staring in.

I take my pen
And write out the words
Which only scratch the surface of thought.
All my words are jumbled up inside
Mixed together
And laced within with emotion.

My hand has a hard time
Discerning what to put on my paper.
My soul aches with longing,
Longing for things
Which seem so very far out of my reach.

And I'm wishing for a day
In which thought will dominate my life
And I will never again be upon my face.

But I will NEVER forget the smell of the dirt,
Wet with my tears.

Writen by, Valerie

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