There was once a boy whose mind was full,
so he started to write.
So many thoughts in his head;
it can be hard to sort them out.
The boy’s thoughts varied,
some as dark as the night, and some as bright as the day.
His mind was mainly in the realm of bright thoughts and euphoria,
but it could all change so quick.
His mind, filled with thoughts, was losing the euphoric feeling
and was being overrun by confusion.
It was not confusion about himself,
but confusion of what to do.
The boy wrote frivolously and frantically,
hoping his mind would be cleared,
but it didn’t help.
The boy didn’t know if he liked writing,
in fact he questioned why he was writing,
but he continued.
He wrote without purpose or reason,
simply writing anything he felt.
There were many thoughts in his mind,
but he found it difficult to sort them out.
The boy is still writing,
desperately writing to maintain his sanity.
Poetry