The Thought of Thought

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People seldom give much thought to thought

For it seems an utter waste of time

So should that make me different

For being no stranger to my mind's mind?

 

Our brains are naught but viruses

Our bodies a nice host cell

to use our precious utilities

And cause its personalized hell

 

Eyes provide the picture

To be recieved as our mind sees fit

Ears the passage for the words

To be twisted then trasmit

 

So then the mind with its knowing creases

Smirks a wicked grin

As the final verdict seeps through the tubes

And the mouth begins to open

 

 

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