I never did like my non sequitur thoughts.
They bounds and jounce and leap expertly
In their own journey of destruction.
They care more for their attentive
Distraction in reaping imperfection,
And in doing so they mitigate
Every length of my inspired potential
I despise them with a passion,
For in my hope for creativity,
I've only exposed the worst--
Profound limitation.

That's the definition of my thoughts though--
Great exposition, in a myriad of disoriented aberrations.

I'm not a fraud, a fool or a fiend,
But my unsettlingly broken, detached thoughts
Will surely be the end of me...

Can I contain the courage to counter it?
*I am uncertain...