My Mind

My mind is like a well read novel-- and the pages there are torn, rustling, crunching, crackling noises from whence my thoughts were born. A thousand words, a thousand more-- fill my brain with beautiful silence, round and round like a merry go round, my betraying voice of violence. My mind is like an antique bass; each vibrant hum,echoes sweetly-- clefs and trebles, my music sheets are compiled ever so neatly. I find in song, the greatest friend-- each note, a sincere appreciation, fa, so, la, ti, do-- a graceful chant, within a tomb, my souls vibration. My mind is like a pregnant garden-- with fruits from shore to shore, an apple tree, no longer forbidden rivers of gold, in my hearts decor. Valleys that extend to your dreams, are wondrous places, I do implore-- Wherein I see your face, I think I must someday venture to explore. My mind is like a wilting rose, for when it falls, no one knows.