i `understanD. IF YoU’re, -confused?

Lying underneath stiff skeleton trees,

I see the stars through the frigid branches.

Strewed as my feelings in reality,

Blur and fog and haze are my languages.

Eyes searching for clarity in my words.

But constellations are all they can view.

Just few can translate the patterns they heard.

Even me, the owner, can screw that too.

The feelings I feel and the words I know,

Are parallel, they both can never meet.

Like the trees, my mind is blank and hollow.

Always, the words I speak are incomplete.

The sown stars and dead trees, all with meaning.

All but my dried words, still with no feeling.