Strange

It’s always strange if you take a look. Like writing pages in your own book. The story started at the top. You just keep writing don’t want to stop. Because if you stop you won’t be seen. Why do you write what does it mean. Even if it comes out strange. The words can just be rearranged. I think with time one can see. That I can write something just for me. The strange question asked is how you see. The words that just come to me. It’s the timing as the words come true. So you can read them just for you. It’s not a joke or maybe it’s strange. That my own writing has a different range.