Our minds are all like glass hamster wheels,
Hooked up to a motor, with sides that are sealed.
Though glass isn't tough, there is no escape.
Believe me, I've tried! These walls just won't break.
So inside we tumble, alone with our thoughts.
Like clothes in the wash, or a quick game of lots.
But I drew mine last, and true to the score.
My straw was the shortest, my luck always poor.
Where others can stop, I continue to spin.
And try as I might, they all seem to grin.
They watch as I stumble, and think it's a game.
They can all stop! So they think I'm the same.
But onward I roll, it goes without saying,
That until I die, inside here I'm staying.
There's no way to stop. There's no switch to flip.
There's no time to sleep, and nothing to grip.
It isn't all bad! Some thoughts are quite fun.
Together we roll, and broad stories are spun.
Out pops a tree, or maybe a cat!
Oh, what would happen, if 'this', or if 'that'.
The glass starts to fill, our 'tumbling' cushioned,
And for a brief time our