Spinning, swinging,

            Questions falling,

                        Torrents blazing, can't be stopped.

Power runs through

These lines forged new,

Fresh-made cairns of sound logic,

Wings I'd die

            To have when I

                        Could process rational thought.

Interrupting,

            Ever blundering,

                        But I cannot give the time

To pause, to calm,

            To still these qualms

                        So instead I make up rhymes.

Kindred words meshed

            At my behest

                        To protect me from myself –

Yet my will is weak,

            And I'll not keep

                        My opinions on a shelf.