While driving home, my mind brought my attention to something;
As silly as it seems, I’d share it on here.
I imagined having sex with my birthday mate on my birthday, Birthday sex!
I couldn’t help but think that my ‘mind’ – not me, was loosing it.
MY greatest asset, bestowed upon me from birth!
My blessing, my curse!
Your – our super machine,
Meant for us all,
With no glitches, at it’s purest.
Prone to corruption, hatred and loneliness at its weakest.
Different forms of virus limits it.
Yet these are mere roadblocks compared to PAIN,
Pain drowns the mind with fire.
Removes the colour, makes it black/white,
Renders it obsolete.
For a second, I would like you to imagine how:
-The mind of an artiste deliberates,
-The mind of a footballer calculates,
-The mind of a writer ponders,
Scratch all of these; just imagine being in the mind of a suicide bomber!
How shallow yet destructive it is
Ready to leave the earth, and take other people along. Meaningless!
The mind, our minds,
So boundless, yet so shallow.
Sometimes we get lost in it, other times; we cannot get enough.
Our weapon, with boundless and limitless capabilities.
Its possession is ours, and ours alone.
We can never literally share our minds,
We can only tell people about it.