Is all this imaginary?
Are your acts involuntary?
Singing sweetly like a canary,
Then all of a sudden your moods vary,
Every morning is a surprise,
Unaware of what may arise,
You wear a complicated disguise,
It can be difficult to recognize,
What on earth fills your mind?
Searching hard for nothing to find,
Constantly having an axe to grind,
I don't want this to be how you are defined.
©Poetic Anita Ashwini Shea 2015
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