Bits and Pieces, the Note

The paper and the pen. The things which pretend. To be an element thing and a thing. Things of wonder be in here. There, might you get an elapse of time shutters like seconds, minutes and hours. They, see, leave a brain hurt like churned. Out of vocals, I'll run today global. To say I'm awful. Lot of things in a lot kept closed, locked upon and never after opened. Where in deep heart I run thus smote local out of space, an Earth. Till this day, I seen many sights to see till this day, and onwards. But to say that my boredom snapped out a little, can't I say a thing false, wrong and to me, it's awful. Can I breathe a wing of a light bird into the open sky. Only though, I wish I can. Satanic busts of a heart leap like wavy they are. Till they bust on another, a reach of an arm and my hand. To take a closer look at man in defiance an order of...