I pour the contents of my mind
From one container to the next,
But either they’re too ill-defined
Or underage and oversexed.

To think I once identified
With all the moods which come to light!
It’s no surprise that I relied
On dreams to get me through the night.

But now I know I’m that which knows
And see my thoughts for what they are;
No more need I endure the woes
Ordained by some erratic tsar.

I meet the world with poise, instead,
Aware that, too, is in my head.

Photo by Amy Treasure on Unsplash

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