The globes with objects inside
And a twinkly music
that tends to soothe the obliged
doesn't have the same appeal to me.

The globes that don't appear soothing to me
hold other strange desires
as my thoughts won't let me free
I let them have the upper hand.

Those globes with glitter
are a wonder
as it litters
the silent ground.

I don't collect these circular objects
I'm a lost soul with nothing to throw
I don't throw punches or mean words
I do, however, throw the globes as a project.

I'm not sure what I'd do
without the sparkly globes
I'd have nothing to
express my thoughts that probe

As they leave my fingers
and crash into my target of choice
I can't help but be thankful
for my weapon thats my voice.

It's twinkly music is a call,
a plead to help calm me,
and I obey it's voice
as I watch it fall.

And as I praise it
for it's help
I realize I'm thankful
and glad that I'm not without.