Mynd

My mind plays in the sandbox a lot, once or twice snakes beneath, the spiders don’t always play nice but I always enjoyed the turtles. 

My brain a reel for wires made of feelings confined within a cage double padlocked different keys.

My heart a bag of burnt popcorn, my humor like butter and charm like salt, 
edible not desired.

My eyes motion lights and security cameras, my ears always alert to unfamiliar noises. 

My turn to happily start making my own decisions, motivation isn’t healthy with ultimatums.