Abstract Psyche

I am but a mere speck In a wreck of emotions In a larger pile promotions Of writers and dreamers And graphical screamers Who surge to the screen That wonderful machine To thrust out their feelings Who lay there looking at ceilings From time to time With an imaginative mind Willfully unwinding The day’s events Maybe in an order of segments That wish to share All that they fear About themselves And yes they delve Deep into their shelves Of imagination A literary creation Where they form somewhere Here or there A manifestation Of ego and right