[Verbal]

Being noticed is a dualist thing. Fear takes hold of all the truth that it brings. Awareness, perception of what you can not control. And a thousand fragments of all the lies you are told. Society's funny they put you in boxes. And finding a voice outside it is hard it feels like it's locked up. Living life as a passenger, delivering strife as a messenger. So chisel some half truths covered in nicely fit themes and perhaps most will just think it's the same old routine. But somehow through the head buzz and the clutter, feels like a gaining of pace and losing of stutter. Someone larger confronted and yesterday he got louder, by night he slept soundly. He dreamt of a flower and she thought of him proudly.