Out of Sync Translation
The clock keeps ticking
but you don't grow tired,
the worlds still spinning
while your stuck in exile.
And though your compass still shows north
your heart plummets south
cause your head can't find the clouds
and you feet don't feel the ground.
And sometimes you talk into the void,
known only as imaginary friend
because, well, talking to yourself
is harder than playing pretend.
And you can feel that void just attach to you soul,
feel it just slowly star to grow,
and you know it won't be long
for it to swallow you whole.
So writing, it becomes a fall back,
your only form of communication
because you words are permanently tangled,
thoughts lost in translation.
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