Can you explain to me why this soliloquy keeps echoing in my brain
The inner monologue that sets diatoms of infectious thoughts inside my head
Where they grow expand and reprimand all my decision's and bits in-between
Not to do this
Why to do that
And who would care anyway
I wish it be as empty as canister of air
Full but not
Forgotten would be all my faults
And this inner referee silenced
The murmuring of all that could be Sshushed and stilled
A dreamless quiet would be ideal.