Scattered Mind
In a chair a boy sits
and ponders his existence,
not knowing where he fits
in a cosmos of atoms and stars,
with his wits without him.
Head in the clouds
and heart in a trap,
still alone in the crowds
that ask him why.
Why do you exist here an now?
Why is your soul so still?
You walk by un-helping, how?
Yet this boy sits, and knows
there is nothing he can do
to change the world or it's woes,
despite the 'deep thoughts' that
he posts on prose.
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