My mind wants to process – constantly.
There is no rest,
No reprieve,
After sunsets final glow.
A mere temperance of quiet solemnity,
Betrays my wearied orb,
To scream in terror,
That I may have missed a chance,
To involve my every being,
In matters of interest,
Only to the likeness,
Of an abandoned sailor,
Adrift on the sea.
Why does the sparrow sing?
The cricket chirp?
The thicket hides the wolf,
The marrow of my bones,
Is not their desire.
My sanity they’ll destroy,
Time is destiny’s calling card,
Tick Tock, Tick Tock,
Come out, Come out,
Whoever you are. – Sinz
