Cast aside, for I've nothing worth taking.
A valid opinion, with no value.
Disregard any of my thoughts,
in this room, there is no use speaking.
Interruptions, take me down.
bring in realization,
of the puerility of my mind.
Thoughtlessness seems to get one far,
but I can never ascertain the ability,
to speak, before I think.
A flaw in personality,
corroding the complexity of my being.
An open mind, enclosed.
If only, I could.

Hear me out for once,
I'm sick of only talking to paper, with pen.
It drains me, like the ink from the canister,
but I can never get everything out,
and there is always more pens,
so my writing, will never end.