People look at me and see a pensive adagio. “A penny for your thoughts!”
Even a dollar will not enthrall your inquisitive head. I don’t think simply or, rather, my thoughts contest in a tug-of-war. You, on the other hand, would merely engage in strife of thoughts for bidding a penny. Some self-disgusted reaction would be appropriate enough plus a ranting utterance, “Why did I ever ask? I should have just let her be.”
That is the price you have to pay for meddling into my head. You can be such a yenta thereupon.
Concerned of my well-being? Or too anxious to get involved? Maybe, in a tizzy to dawn a conversation.
I feel too many different emotions: ardor, excitement, grief, perturbation, joy, love, sensibility, vehemence, zeal, ecstasy, responsiveness - after all, they are all just a mental state. If I start babbling each for the sake of conversation I’d be as good as a mocking bird feigning what’s truly going on in my head… for the sake of conversation.
I have been gifted with a face that speaks half of my confessions even in the absence of words. A perfect substitute for some elucidations I find too confounding to illuminate. Your penny no longer equates to its original value and I, on the other hand, will further make it valueless.
The silence I most favored has its underlying significance why it is simply the option. Freedom can also be relatively expressed this way. I ultimately appreciate freedom in the confines of unperturbed isolation. Invaders yap their way in but I only see lips jabber as if a bee came buzzing round my head.
I am not as welcoming as the world as when I got to experience its distinctive taste for the first time, unawares. I guess it welcomed me to the gates of hell and only got to peek and outline a piece of heaven relying on my imagination for the rest of its truth.
I am but a wanderer as you see deep into my eyes. Your penny just got you a shirt that didn’t fit - useless. But if you insist, I must tell you that words are not as easy to find. Simple words may be too simple, not being able to give justice to the real meaning of a gesture. But hard ones can be too exaggerating that the reality can be bent. Either way the truth is distrustful and unwilling to come out.
I am but a wanderer as you take a good look at my face. Not because my mind is empty, but because there’s so much going on in it that words don’t just fit together to form them perfectly. Come the perfect time and words I will compose them exquisitely in writing, outright, for you to read and take pleasure from, and I won’t just accept a penny for it. =)
