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.