i was once told
that i think a lot -
that if everyone thought
as much as i do,
we'd all be geniuses -
but i didn't reply,
because how
do you flat out tell someone
that they're wrong?
i was once asked
what i think about,
but i didn't answer
because i couldn't
untangle the thoughts
quickly enough
to explain them.
i was once stared at
but i didn't notice
because my eyes
were too busy
trying to concentrate
on something besides
tilted picture frames
and cracks in the walls
and my mind
was too busy
trying desperately
not to consume
itself.
if everyone thought
as much as i do,
we'd all be insane.
because when your mind
has a mind
of its own,
it becomes difficult.
it becomes difficult
to listen
when the chorus
in your head
never quiets.
the music is always playing.
sometimes it is beautiful.
other times, it is not.
the instruments
are played
at different beats,
and out of tune,
and sometimes
they don't even play
the same song.
and there is a cacophony
that can't be turned off.
it's hard to listen
when your mind
is never quiet.
it becomes difficult
to speak
when the voices
in your head
don't stop talking.
there is always something
to be said.
who am i,
really?
and what am i doing here?
and where am i supposed to go?
and when will things start making sense?
and why don't i have this figured out already?
why
why
why won't it get quiet?
it's hard to speak
when your mind
is talking over you.
it becomes difficult
to think
when you can't decipher
your own thoughts.
they are the laces
of unmatched shoes
that get twisted together
in a basket
of forgotten things,
and all that you know -
all that you've been taught
and all that you believe
and all that you can conceive -
is just a knot of shoelaces.
it's hard to think
when your mind
is full of thoughts,
and the thoughts are at war
with each other,
at war
with you,
and your brain
is just a battleground.
i was once told
that i think a lot.
i think
i already knew that.
