It rides on the back of many 

never making it's way to the head.

Thoughts, do you have any?

Raise my hand? I'd rather be dead.


Words flow through your head like a broken water tap,

You refuse to say them aloud,

so they stick in your head like a road map,

some you can't stand, and some make you proud. 


Though you won't set them free,

they rage like butterflies trapped in a jar.

Quiet they will stay, quiet they will be,

Although they could be heard from afar.


It takes courage you see,

to let those disastrous and all together beautiful

thoughts an words be set free

How great they are, how very irrefutable.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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