They Constantly Argue
The struggle is real
“Good morning world, what a beautiful day,” the mind exclaims as the eyes open,
“What do we need to do today? Wash, dishes, shopping, fuel for the car,
Emails to check, phone calls to make, then maybe a nap,
Oh, did I mention, it’s a beautiful day, an absolute star?”
******
“Oh, give it a rest,” the heart decries,
“What’s with the happy toot? Can you not feel my pain,
My turmoil as I race with anxiety, thump with sorrow,
Feeling like life is kicking me in the teeth again?”
******
“You just need cheering up my dear heart,
Let me take the reins today, we’ll have fun, you’ll see,
We can imagine the perfect life, dream up the perfect partner,
Take the road less travelled, run with the wind, set our thoughts free.”
******
The heart sighs at the brains constant ramblings,
Exhausted at the ongoing onslaught,
It never stops, like a train wreck jumping tracks,
Going off on a tangent with its thousand thoughts.
******
The heart knows when it has been beat,
It withdraws back into the depths of a broken soul,
Shuts down, becomes cold hearted and distant,
Hiding in the darkest hole.
******
“Heart, heart, for heavens sake where did you go?”
The brain persists, fighting for recognition, fighting to be heard,
But the heart has shut off from the painful world in which it resides,
Knowing the brain always has to have the last word.
******
Giving up on life, on love, preferring to turn off all feelings,
To live out the days mummified and totally numb,
The heart disconnects from the frantic insistence of the brain,
Drowned within the doldrums, the river of emotion in which it succumbs.
******
The struggle between the brain and heart is an age old adage,
The brain carries with it a thousand and one thoughts,
Constantly changing its mind, overwrought and on speed dial,
The heart, well it feels the depths of its emotions, far more than it ought!
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Comments (4)
Hope I don't embarrass you with my admiration. This resonated with me extremely..... Will you be my friend ? Maybe some of your talent will rub off on me.
I can definitely relate!
Awww, that poor heart. This was so relatable. Loved your poem+
A very interesting poem, an awesome flow