You see my brain
It has a mind of it’s own
Does whatever it pleases
Not a care in the world

Making decisions on its own
Like it’s even old enough to?!
Never what I think is logical
Always what it thinks makes most sense

Can’t visualise what’s going to happen
Can’t build plans, and organise life
Less Back to the Future
More Memento until Mori

My cortex, Is a vortex
Sucking all my best laid plans
Leaving me nothing
But Burns

I’m just a passenger for my own head Looking through a dirty window Watching the world fly by…

Pol Mitchell

Scottish… Autistic… Poet…

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