I close my eyes. And my mind opens.
Thoughts; they spin.
Round and round. round and round.
Creating waves. Leaving and returning where Start and Finish meet.
They hurt. They kill.
They shred my sanity into smithereens.
They burn gaping holes in my heart.
They leave sorrow in my pocket.
They paint confusion in my mind.
I'd like to think of thoughts like an old fashioned ceiling fan.
They cause lots of movement.
But in reality, make no difference.
Returning to my Self
-
I can hear the birds chirping in my backyard, and I smile as I sip my ice
cold electrolyte water.
Because I feel so damn grateful.
There are times th...
7 months ago
no difference? really?
ReplyDeleteyeah
ReplyDeleteim gonna change that.
they make lame differences .
uncalled for .
I like this poem. I think the last line is exaggerated, but it does bring the point across.
ReplyDeleteI want to see your changed version.
ReplyDeleteHave fun in Israel!