
Gallery
Nov 7 · 1 min read
Snow
Pink flared sky
Aurora lights
My mind is
an empty museum
Angled roof
constructed of complex geometry
Architectural
Beauty.
It doesn’t feel that way though.
Come the morning
it dissipates
The mind
back to a familiar
Battered road
The same as usual
No original thought
Simply a cycle of repetitive
anxieties
Cob webs of the past
The opposite of beautiful
is lifeless,
unoriginal.
Bored.
Its too powerful an organ to manipulate itself
I’m not strong enough
Not one of the strong,
Nor the best.
One of the worst,
Because I cannot
Think for myself,
I think for it.
