Purses hold a lot,
Just like the mind.
All the texts and money and hope,
That you could possibly find.
You take them to the mall,
To the store,
To the zoo,
And ever more.
And why do we keep them?
To hold our things?
To hold them hidden?
To hold them thin?
Just like the mind.
We wear ourselves out.
Carrying this extra weight.
Without water, like a drout.
It's too much to drag,
These thoughts in our head,
We get tired, dazed,
And we want to go to bed.
Yet when we do,
We dream,
About these thoughts,
Which follow us, as it seems.
If only we could let our thoughts go.
As the objects in a purse.
Drop a little weight.
And then forever we could converse,
With nothing.
