Thoughts are like serpents that climb up our spines;
you have yours and I have mine.
They’ll pillage presence before you can blink
and snitch your intent, so you won’t have to think.
I’m thinking thoughts will mess up your mind;
they come and go most all the time.
You can’t stop what you never really started;
relishing remembrance, unmindfully departed.
Always rummaging through my brain;
psyche seems vulnerable--misson's the same.
Unfinished business goes round and round;
scripted movie ending, nowhere to be found.
I wish I were deaf and could no longer hear
voices guiding me all out of fear.
I’ve tried not to listen but don’t know why;
they surround my faculty--continue to pry.
Medusa in mire gnaws at the truth;
half of thoughts seen--meanings are mute.
Must keep in mind and at least I can choose;
between all of them and sharing with you.
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