The mind
The mind gets in the way
Of everything I want to say.
Yet that is where it's born.
One can be seen only one way .. he is known as the bumbling buffoon
One who can not explain .
Over thought...the fear...
What I have to say means little.
Theses are things I hear, and the images created in the midst of my minds eye.
At least there is in the pages of my mind a place where for a moment the thoughts do shine. They escape the chasm and find their way to the surface.
Once released a war does commence.
The dark clouds of pride and heartache suddenly appear and dance in the theatre of my mind.
The once bright light of courage now gone dim until the spark of light to release the flood and put an end to the long long night
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