my mind is always filled up with clutter
like butterfly wings, my thoughts flutter
back and forth they go from this to that and back
overthinking leads to constant anxiety attacks
every minute, sound, every little noise
distracts me, breaks down my temporary poise
no detail ever escapes my acute notice
making it nearly impossible to focus
I cannot simply think of just one thing
for there are far too many connecting strings
that tie me to brand new topics that start rolling
as I keep the old thoughts still ongoing
sometimes I almost enjoy it
other times it makes me have a fit
but oh well, it's just me and my brain
until I'm kicked out by a migraine

so what? my head's a little bit scattered
but is that really always what matters?

everyday his melancholy metastasizes
as he grow exponentially emotional
and their words continue to tantalize
until his feelings are unproportional
they are split up and segregated
happy to the right, sad to the left
and though they were once integrated
all that he feels now is depressed

a gray fog cloaked the small town
and in its mist, the people drowned
though none of them would ever frown
but they were broken and worn down

as they watched the colors fade
the town was sheltered in its shade
melancholy is where they stayed
until they were buried by the *****

as life grew dismal, they turned their faces
and continued to run their daily races
so none acknowledged the changing places
as they were bound by conformity's braces