Spinning, swinging,
Questions falling,
Torrents blazing, can't be stopped.
Power runs through
These lines forged new,
Fresh-made cairns of sound logic,
Wings I'd die
To have when I
Could process rational thought.
Interrupting,
Ever blundering,
But I cannot give the time
To pause, to calm,
To still these qualms
So instead I make up rhymes.
Kindred words meshed
At my behest
To protect me from myself –
Yet my will is weak,
And I'll not keep
My opinions on a shelf.