Once I begin a thought,

I have no idea where it may lead

And then I think another thought

And I cannot let it be

So the thought I originally thought is left to rot

Thus, my brain is never free.

So I ponder on this rotted thought

With sadness and with glee.

And on this rotted thought I thought,

No one else but me.

But than I thought you thought the same thought,

And I just couldn't see

But if you thought this same thought,

Was it rotted, or was that just me?