I thought to write one day. I thought to write my thoughts. It would be cleansing I thought and my thoughts will be saved in writing. I could return back to them one day and reflect. All my thoughts will swim their way out of the junkyard of a head I have and wash themselves in order and sense. They will grow into small doors and small windows. Then, in their own rightful time, the doors and windows will fuse into rays that will blossom into the light they were meant to obscure; it will unwrap the shadows and the junkyard will be a garden. A beautiful garden, the sort that is soothing to the eye.