lakes of thoughts swept away,
they pool here, and here they stay,
waiting for the next great idea
to be thought up,
a cloud of inspiration
to fill the weather cup.

in these lakes,
dwells the dreamer's wishes,
the wisher's dreams,
the lover tales,
and the villian's schemes.

the life you live,
and the life you want,
are here in these thought swamps.

the guilty pleasures,
and secret desires,
all stored away with many others.

what if they all withered away?
the world's words and tales,
for no one to think about,
no one to discover, and ruin it all.

then what would i write about?