Broken people, writing whole compositions
with parts being messy segments of a same important story,
paragraphic parts all based on limited vision
but this mutual inherent feeling of 'greater'
and the elusive knowledge of 'whole',
a nostalgia of a foreshadowing sort.
It may be sparked by the collective memory,
a remembrance of things undone, and homesickness for places unvisited.
These 'un's do not signify lack of trying,
these 'un's, as per the memories and the places, are merely for lack of existence.
And this nonexistence is not due to lack of seeking,
because it was found.
We can't simply just touch it, we feel it.
We can't simply see it, but it burns inside our minds
like the sunspots in our eyes once we look down after looking straight through fire.
Ergo it exists.
But only to a point of proving one's self to the individual, the broken.
Who shall then pick the pen up to try and see what is needed to see.
The more important your composition is to ink, the deeper the struggle to touch your pen to the paper.
twenty | one | pilots - screen
