odd thoughts

odd poem

I know if you knew my thoughts you would think they were odd.

That’s why I sometimes just sit there and nod.

It’s not because I’m not listening.

Its just because I’m wishing.

Wishing for myself to think of a way to contribute.

To the conversations you have while my mouth is on mute.

Trying to think of a way I could possibly help.

Slightly distracted by a distant yelp.

An image of an animal pops into my head.

And images of something dead.

It must have been killed.

So now something’s stomach has been filled.

Tonight it will sleep content.

With thoughts as such, my mind starts the decent.

Descending into strangeness and trips in reality.

Allowing my imaginations to explore my insanity.

Then when you ask for my opinion,

I realize I wasn’t listening.