THE FICKLE MIND

There’s always a place, you can call your own, Me…!

It works sometimes fine, sometimes bad,

Sometimes crazy, sometimes lazy

Sometimes happy, sometimes sad.

The Fickle mind is like a circus,

Full of many feelings like rubble, flying in a gust.

And also, having lots of promises, and trust.

Happiness is like a clown, having a balloon.

And Pride, who is like a crown, having lots of Egos

And Ego, who always refuses to come down.

The thoughts wandering here and there,

At their own pace, do they sway,

No matter what, thoughts always find their way.

The temper like a flame,

But for the sorrow and the shame,

It is the mind's prier.

The crisscross of thoughts,

The Simba of fear,

The drifting from conscious to subconscious,

Goes unnoticed here.