Wednesday, January 11, 2012


I hide my thoughts inside my head,
It's the only safe place left.
Pages are easily opened and read,
While the mind is not easily cleft.

There is no privacy in sight.
I must not leave a living light,
An active thought recorded.
All that comes of dreams is plight.
Who can say when musing is right?

When subconscious music,
Droning placidly hypnotic
Finally finds the surface,
It wanders, stoic;
Ever tracking the chaotic.

They flit aimlessly, lost.
Confused, cold as frost
They linger, like long winters.
With anger they're embossed,
Finally, they're glossed.

In other words, I dare
To challenge that it's fare
To hold my mind captive;
Without a breathe of air,
Or a neighbor to compare.

Through this exposure,
I now plea:
Give me some closure
Or privacy!

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