There are times I am sure,
when others look at me,
and see nothing,
but an idle mind.

If they only knew...

What frolics inside my head,
they would scurry away in fear.

If they could see past my vacant stare.
Just behind my eyes.
Through the swirling,
menagerie of images.

If they could hear the voices' intonation,
their chants and rants.

If they could only see and hear what lurks...

That the idle mind I project,
is not really me.

Every wakened moment,
every quiescent dream.
The playground,
where my mind goes.

If they could only see...