and then thought, thought to itself

why is this mind so constricted

why is this mind so unsettled

battling itself

never knowing

always happy though

always happy

and she is too, the bearer of that mind

considering the past, thought said

maybe mind tricks itself 

because of the ratio

good to bad

bad to good

and the outweighing constant - expect shit

and when mind is considering

the considerations of the past

she's not inclined to divulge, let me tell you -

or not, too much non - fiction

are other minds like mind too?

how would she ever know

how would they ever know?

they wouldn't

no matter how smart somebody was, is, or still to come

to think that they could work out such a thing

lost, it's lost on mind, thought, her...me.

like the stars almost

she loves to watch them

but so they say, most are not even there

then mind thinks, well what is she even gazing at?

nothing? but it's something...she sees it. I'm sure I see it too.

maybe thought will give a thought

and then thought thinks how we see our surroundings

not perceive like mind. oh no, not that

that can be discussed

and influenced

how we actually see this, it all, everything, initially

own eyes syndrome

that's scarce nowadays

how does mind pinpoint

box up

pigeon hole

categorize

her

when she's looked upon

under a large magnifying glass

and it's orange, it's most definitely the orange that's

burning ants which are the pickets of thought

singed by control of the sun through the looking glass

and then she says mind nothing

mind my nothing, although

I thought of this and

this can not be a poem

I won't let it be.