i dont talk much
you have nothing to say
neither do i.
i dont feel much
what is there to feel
but our perceptions and memories
remembering the smells
finding the lost thoughts of youth.
i have a feeling we are all puppets
not understanding how
i have a feeling all we say or think
is worthless and shot into the past
i am addicted to the future
it holds everything in balance.
i think too much
what my fears are
the unknowns behind a wall
why we must either follow or lead
or be put into categories
and as it is written:
reality is what the mind sees.


---helloyou made very good points, the poem was written under pressure, and
I haven't had time to revise. I think it has potential as a collection,
and not just one poem.---
 
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