Truly Divine

If I could sell my thoughts, how much would it be?

A penny, a dime, a dollar or three?

Will the public demand that I cheapen the price

Of the thoughts in my head as the ultimate heist?

Will they pick off a sample and devour it all

Or will they display all my thoughts like a fly on a wall?

Will my thoughts be stationary or moving along

The flow of the trend of society's song?

Are my thoughts my own and not someone else's

Or does it depend on every day cases?

The colour of my words expressed in tenses

And yet guarded around by my mental fences

My mind continues to run in a mile

Not sorted nor put in cabinet file

The meaning and words no longer mix in

The paint and the brush thrown out of the bin

My thoughts are for sale so they're no longer mine

They are for the masters to pick out and dine

So now that my brain is no longer burdened

With nonsense and troubles and singing verdins

Peace is finally here to be mine

Blind obedience is truly divine