As I sit quietly, all alone
pondering on trivia that I’ve known.
I once knew how to get things out,
Explain myself inside and out.
But that was then and this is now,
I’d finish a tale, but don’t know how.
Remembering details is quite a trick,
The end of stories no longer stick.
I start to talk without a care,
But wind up quietly twirling my hair,
I quickly realize I can’t complete,
The thought, the story, or any brain feat.
I crack a smile, and jump the track,
My subjects vary, thats my knack,
I’m full of info, you’ll soon see,
You’ll never not be proud of me.
Only beginnings, rarely the ending,
These are the messages I’ve been sending,
So when I sit quietly in my chair,
My fingers gently twirling my hair,
I’m quickly searching through my head
For elusive thoughts that seem to have fled.
If only I could really explain
The things going on inside my brain.