Concoctions of the Mind
Peculiar.
So very peculiar, I know not.
My mind cannot imagine.
What flying thoughts are these,
Which jab constantly without ease,
At the senses, threatening to break through and flutter about most unwelcomely?
I defy you oh uncontrollable mischief!
For you surely play me like a riddle,
Teasing and weaving about unsolvable by all means.
To question is to allow,
Such infallible burdens,
The privilege of consideration.
Copyright © Allie Ogletree | Year Posted 2011
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