Mindlessness.

Is my mind pregnant with countless thoughts,

or is it blank, like the white wall in front of me? 

It's uncanny, 

how I don't know where to begin from, 

but I know where to end.

On you! 

But just right now, 

I'm reminded of the way you sit back unpretentiously, 

on a bright and sunny winter morning, 

and read about the unsung heroes of the 1972 War. 

No, I don't want to think of you. 

Thought's of you take too much of my time!

But the white blank wall seems to talk too much of you.