• Each thought like a tiny little person running.
    Racing, a competition vying for attention.
    Notice me, focus on me.
    Think of me.
    All steadily keeping up with each other in speed,
    but the order--nonexistent.
    Complete chaos.
    My mind torn, hundreds of directions.
    Thoughts and ideas begging for affection.
    Begging to be noticed, to be considered, and sorted out.
    But there's never really time.
    We push them to the corners.
    Stuff them under beds, behind closet doors, tucked away in drawers, and left there.
    For that peace of mind.
    For that absence of thought.
    A stillness.
    A silence, that's so loud.
    And the running,
    stops.