Driving
In our little tin boxes
Walking around in our purpose built bodies
Thinking
strung out in our heads
Everything we see
Touch
Smell
Arriving through the filter
Of us
In the end
The only things we truly own
Are what we say
What we do
What we’ve done
And the voice in our head
That it all comes through
And never shuts up
Till we’re dead
It houses our truth
As we see it
What lives we could have led
If not for the voice
In our head
That said we couldn’t
Shouldn’t
Mustn’t
Wouldn’t
And in the end
It’s just some damn voice
In our heads
This is a wonderful poem for so many reason! We would like to host it on our site. For some reason, we cannot seem to Reblog this particular poem. Do you mind if we strip it from your page as a “Re:Blog” pointing you to your blog?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sure – thanks for thinking of me guys
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes that damn voice in the head.Well penned
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Megha 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
I loved this poem , Kate. It’s all true , it’s high time we realize that. Well written in your usual peppy interesting style.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Yassy 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Welcome, Kate🤗
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautifully.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks 😊
LikeLike
Ahhhh the Ego and it’s endless chatter…….
LikeLiked by 1 person
Endless 🙄 I’m glad I recognise these days that it isn’t real
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great Post
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks 😊
LikeLike
You nailed it in one.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This poem discusses exactly why I practice yoga.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love yoga too
LikeLike