who isn't
a bit crazy, a bit shy
of a loaf.
disturbed.
but we play on, don't
we?
we press forward,
knowing that
to belong we have
to get along,
that we have to tuck
these wild emotions,
these strange
ponderings away.
what point is there
in telling anyone
these dark and wonderful
thoughts.
but then there's this,
this pen and paper,
a place to put it all down
when the mind
does stray.
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