Cobwebs in mind,
Of myriad kinds.
But to ‘accept not’
Is the obsessive thought.
A thought that rots,
And havoc wroughts.
To shreds it sends,
The blurring identity.
But still I rant,
Have will and go,
And ride high On a ‘scrambled ego’.
Cobwebs in mind,
Of myriad kinds.
But to ‘accept not’
Is the obsessive thought.
A thought that rots,
And havoc wroughts.
To shreds it sends,
The blurring identity.
But still I rant,
Have will and go,
And ride high On a ‘scrambled ego’.