Life as a thinker not always what it’s thought to be.
Pot holes along the road,
big enough to get lost in,
yet at times hard to see.
Prithee, tell me?
The chain of thought that resonates with thee…
The timid, or tranquil.
The neverending ponder, that leaves your spirit wanting…
Life upside and and introversal,
mechanisms that will have you climbing the confines,
then intertwined,
Unbeknownst where to find your spine.
The liking of unkind, that will pull you so far into the hole, that you wish you had a map or a guide.
Murdock
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