To the World and the Sadness of People

To be quite frank,
I am a cosmic mess
I am an unreachable brain in a touchable vessel
I am afraid of everything but humans
I love to close my door
And open my windows
And close my heart off
And open my soul up
I love to write with a pencil
And erase my mistakes
And hide all my pain
I love to watch a person exclaim
And show the world their creations
Their passions
I am inspired by a chef’s dirty counter
And a carpenter’s bleeding finger
By a writer’s burning poem, that they wrote for someone else
And then realized
That they’re ready to write for themselves
I like to tell people about myself
Even when they have nothing in common with me
And I feel like an alien in the wrong clothes
An alien, forgotten on Earth
By a shuttle over flowing with cosmic messes
And needed to make some room
And I feel like a shell
And I feel like a painting that only the artist loves
Because no one can see that he was painting his soul
And I feel like a god when I create a new world
But I feel like God wouldn’t like me if He met me
And sometimes I don’t even relate to myself
And songs without words are my favorite
Because anything with words makes me nervous
But sometimes I will connect so intensely and so authentically
That I’m thankful to gravity for keeping me here
And I’m almost always happy
But some sadness needs me
Maybe it’s as lonely as I am
Maybe it doesn’t want to listen to my songs and  my poems and my thoughts
It wants to be heard and felt
Just like me