Desirous, yet aimless.

What was it that moved my mind.
There were many a ideas combined.
What would mean of my life,
There would be solace every slice;
Whenever I thought much, I lost my rhyme.

Was it to stay quiet,
That I were to sense peace-
throughout the strands.
Or were it a requirement,
To remark and screech,
Over my actions and stands.
That whatever I did,
Whether it got me name or writ?

A question taking analysis,
Did strike in the basis,
There assumed ideas,
serenading along an eclipse.

I had to do this,
I had to make that,
I had said many words-
in a hiss,
and become a fathom-
in grimace stack.

Had I got that control,
In what I had said,
I would have been worthy-
then, of her love,
And even the brash.
Now, that distance appears,
There's indifference, oh Gnash!

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