Not out of mind, but without any poise
Contained within the thoughts of my own wits.
Far stuck between in need of roaring noise
Or time away from life’s provoking hits.
But quiet is the biggest threat to a
Forever shaking mind, who thinks and thought
Of tick and tock of clocks that never pay
For time I spent in such a deal of fraught.
No matter who the loser is, a loss
Remains a loss. A piece that’s taken straight
Out from a hand, as eyes have filled with gloss,
Another dreadful cycle, more await.
Though several perks come with severe disease,
At least I think at all, and as I please.