My mind is a playground,
A grand exhibition for one.
It jumps around on its play set
And makes itself fun.
Colours and faces,
Contorted but true.
When my mind is a playground,
There's always something new.
Hiding around the corner,
Playing peek a boo,
Inviting and inciting,
And telling what to do.
Creatures of space,
And spaces of colours,
Running water,
And dancing otters.
My mind is a circus,
And all are welcome to attend.
But I can't assure you,
That you'll leave with your head.
When my mind is a circus,
Who knows what is at play?
Where witches and sorcerers gather,
Where all norms are at bay.
Where the beauty of the obscure,
And the most obscure of beauty,
Hold hands in the face of the monster,
And perform their divine duty.
My mind is a playground,
Adorned with ropes and vines,
That lead to different islands,
And that lead to different times.
Down the path of the wanderer,
Where he pours a cup of wine,
And plants visions of tomorrow,
In yesterday's eyes.
Paint dripping down walls,
And voices in the sky
Are but a drop in the ocean,
And a second in time.
While the cogs turn in sync,
And they all chant and sing,
The tune of my mind,
When I cease to think.
The bright of night,
Giving birth to the break of day.
My mind is a playground,
So, damnit, let me play.