My Mind

My Mind

 

A mind engraved with tales of horror

With wounds from my own heart's sad explorer

Must be cast down into isolation

As crowds burden me with  alienation.

 

Though I not blame them for their harsh unrest

When our lives apart, grow for our own test.

Yet, to lunch in solitude feels lonesome

For a mind that must feel less than handsome.

 

Far more, far less is manic-depressive

 Whose mind chained by the moods of oppressive,

But never may I feel anymore blind

By the touch of my beautiful mind.