We are the prisoners of our mind,
I have been thinking about this question lately: Do we, as human beings, have any limitations? By…
A poem.
The mind is like a dancing fish.
A Poem
A thought climbed the web of my mind today,
A thought I surely hid within a needle…
a being rotting away.
he wincedas the gauntlet fellhis being — a rotten shell of blood…
decay