Broken mind,
This silly brain of mine
I can’t tell what’s real
Or what’s made up

This fragile mind of mine,
Where every truth
Every fact
Is questioned

Where thoughts become stuck
Like flies in a web
And even when I get them out
They stay, like whispers in the wind,
The wind of my consiousness

I’m exhausted,
From thinking
From arguing
With myself

I’ve given myself a migraine
By thinking too hard
And the thoughts are still there
Like whispers in the wind

This frail mind of mine,
Can memorize by the second
Can process by the millisecond
And keeps my body working

Yet it keeps me in a fog,
About whether these whispers are mine
Whether these whispers are true

Broken mind,
Keeps these whispers,
And they echo,
Off the Walls
Until they are no longer just
Whispers in the wind

Image: Google Images, Pexels