I have to admit that I do hide, I do.
I hide behind my own skull.
I do not speak the words in my mind,
Only some, barely at all.
Mostly my mind stays within my own mind
For want of a way to convey
The relentless stream of phrases and thoughts
Darting through day after day.
In a manner more confusing than Dr. Suess
Or Swahili in Los Angeles,
Sometimes as bad as Shel Silverstein
With his Runny Babbit kind of finesse,
My brain invents things of its own kind of breed
Though unfortunately not worth a dime.
No, these things are too weird to even think to repeat
Exceptionally far from sublime.
But less often than that my mind decides things
(I assure you, completely on its own)
That possibly my fellow peers’ minds decide
But should certainly be left alone.
For these things that not only I think of,
These things that everyone thinks
Must stay locked up in this mind of mine
For they would push others over the brink.
These awful things I do not wish to say
That a proper lady would wisely evade,
Are those things that everyone else throws out
While my mind is left dismayed.
And every once in a while, a catalyst will come,
Completely out of my control,
One that unlocks that vulgar drawer of mine
And suddenly, I turn into a troll.