Creativity on the Mind

Simplicity is a gift that my mind
Has not had the pleasure of receiving.
Always overwhelming its audience
With a never ending monologue always
Whispering,
Whispering,
Whispering,
Chasing
After whatever thought it thinks
It may have in its grasp, unabashed
By its seldom secured success.
Thoughts sprout up – dandelions –
Through the cracks between beliefs –
Sometimes precious wildflowers,
And others pests and beasts.

There is no stopping the incessant
Inhibition of creativity on the mind.
And as long as it stays captive here,
In this slice of reality that’s only mine,
Whispering,
Whispering,
Whispering,
Chasing
The ghosts of former plans and prose,
I can keep the world safe from drowning
In the sea of noise I sleep to every night.
For the hardest part of sharing this identity
Is not coming up with ideas and answers,
But rather finding simplistic elegance
To avoid elaborate crashes and disasters.

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