Two sentences in and your mind has given up. After all, there are other brief reads that populate your attention. The span of which hasn't stretched to this sentence. And if it has, you begin to reach for the ending of this elongated verbal expression displayed in a muted tone. That is the pain of a scribe; the ability to write with emotional rhyme and not be felt. Nor be heard or worse still, read. But such is life. Beauty is in expression, not reception.
"I write for the thoughts that never got a second chance. And the thought the never got a chance or a second. These are the thoughts that lurk in the back of our minds. Hard to find coz they're confined the back of......."