How Mr. Thought Lost His Job

Dreadfully mortifying lies the case of Mr. Thought:

He was found on the day of his birth,

dreadfully empty,

a blob of white,

now look at him,

so full of heartache;

No troubles brewed before,

he slowly grew more,

he basked in all his glories,

old and new, of every story;

Color added, little by joy,

More satiated,

of what wonderful delight;

But then the years grew,

and more information came,

than could ever be desired,

and Mr. Thought all but started to fall apart;

Having relinquished his losses,

multitude, and billions of money down the faucet,

so big Mr. Thought grew,

with so much color,

that it all turned blue,

a subtle gray, then black,

Mr. Thought knew he was so much more than that!

He looked at his hideous self,

a fat big black blob that grew bigger every second.

No longer beautiful shapes,

no, no, no;

now he was excruciatingly dull,

too much made him bleak,

and now he seemed meek,

no desire much for anything,

not so much as a squeak from Mr. Thought;

He had been tranquilized and broken,

to do well with society,

and have no outspoken personal opinion.

Now he lays hospitalized, leaving his job as a thinker,

and leaving himself to subjection to negative criticism,

and the standards of society.