I am lazy

  Says the critic in me

I'm too hard on myself

  Replies my kinder side

Maybe I can work harder?

   My inner optimist chimes in

But what's the point?

   Asks my depression

There isn't one

   Blunt as always, my cold logic

But then there's no point in not trying either...

   I say, it finally being MY turn to speak.

This is my head

My inner workings

How my mind operates

These small conversations

Eventually they conclude

I reach my verdict

My nerves move my muscles to meet chosen needs

My choices form a life

And that life forms me

But where do I start?

With talkative thoughts.

I am a neverending conversation

Of the most mundane variety

Never heard

But always being spoken