The Writer Inside of Me

Sometimes I feel just like a gerbil,

running around and around on his wheel!

Round and round like a lit up carousel at a fair.

The smell of corn dogs and cotton candy in the air.

I seem to be insensitive to others

at the most inopportune times.

I am too concentrated on my goal,

my running frantically.

But little do they know,

this is when I use my newfound mind.

This is when I dream, desire, wish for…

wish for new thoughts.

I always need new.

But I also want old.

I am so confused.

This mind of mine never ceasing…

like a gerbil on his wheel.

But I like it this way.

Now I am different, but wait,

everyone thinks they are different,

it is the new trend.

My thoughts are my own keepsake

that I shall never leave,

even when I run from myself.