The Mind
Some minds rage and burn their stars, Some minds aren't meant to go far; Some minds are trapped in their own making, Some minds are too shut to be awakened. I have a mind that knows, Where and how it arose, Denying its own destiny, Oh, some minds were never meant to be. In the red furnace that burns, Everyday I leave a piece of my own; And all that I've grown - Is something readily unknown. Some minds are products of fallacy, Some minds are not ready for reality; Some minds find peace in nothing, Some minds are forever sulking; I have a mind that grieves, Behind the smiles it receives; Chastising its own existence, It is lost in the balance. In the splashing rain that comes, Dissolve my thoughts one by one, And all that was of joy or concern - Is lost in a taunting haunt. Some minds are treacherous webs, That are trapped in their refreshed designs; Some minds cannot be helped, They are awaiting resign; Some minds cannot speak for the