Why must I be a slave to my own thoughts?
They drive me hard without mercy or rest
And sometimes I wonder if it is best
That it is they who are calling the shots.
They push me as if they were emotion
As if they could feel my future ahead
Meanwhile, my heart wishes to go to bed
Caring not if I get a promotion.
For each of my inklings becomes a curse
As if I had insulted some wizards
Who mixed potions of sage, bones, and lizards
To subject my mind to their chanted verse.
Must I wait here until my body rots
In order to escape my many thoughts?