The Mind

What of this,
This dark abyss
That carries odd thoughts and ideas and tricks?

What of its kindness and ability to love?
Why is it that these emotions are shoved;
Shoved deep down even further than before
Barely getting through to the mind’s inner core?

How odd that these,
The purest of feelings,
Are hard to find and in need of healing.
If only some item or creature could come
Open up this inner sanctum;
Take a peak and do some repairs,
For this is a mind that needs much care.

Another hit, another blow;
All because it does not know:
How to mold or shift or change,
Only how to numb the pain.
But pretty soon it becomes clear
That this mind is not stuck here.
And so it breaks to be alone,
But in that break it finds a home.

This home is warm,
Unlike before.
Actions in here are no longer a chore.
There is love in this home;
Fingers that caress and love to roam.
More than that, there is comfort and passion.
All of the love is thoughtful and rationed.

In this new home
This mind shall flourish,
As it will be cherished, cared for, and nourished.
For once, the mind is finally clear,
All because of someone close and dear.