It's on fire,
it's hot as hell.
Hotter than lava, as far as I can tell.
It's poisonous,
truly, liquified death.
My mind I detest.
It's fouler than rot,
more decrepit than decay.
There's nothing left,
so I play.
It bores into me; squeezes outta every pore,
My mind I deplore.
It shakes my soul,
it cracks my bones,
it keeps me different,
from all the drones.
It causes my to cry,
begging to die,
yet it's the one thing,
that helps my eyes dry.
It's stupidly studious,
in informing me I'm smart enough to know I'm dumb,
My mind makes me numb.
It knows my hearts joy,
imploring it to understand sorrow,
It lives for today,
never tomorrow.
It keeps me happily sad,
always mad.
It wants me to become a dad,
Yet won't let me cum.
My mind I know the best.
It talks in whispers,
sings in deafening tones,
it sits atop three separate thrones.
God of my body,
Devil of my heart,
it tells me,
when the pain starts.
It's spastically languid,
cheerfully melancholy,
blithe,
it charges to my folly.
It contradicts insanity,
but it's never sane,
This is the story,
of my brain.
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