Like my dreams, forgotten once the sun rises, my mind writes paragraphs of beautiful prose that vanish as I attempt to put them on paper.
And just as I lay each morning fruitlessly trying to recall dreams as their memories fade; I sit paper in hand, willing my mind to release the words that flowed in beautiful harmony just moments before.
The very same words that could free me from the torment of a million thoughts trying to lay claim to the forefront of my mind.
So I demand control, prepare for battle, fully aware the struggle is futile and I am powerless against it.
For with its flagrant power it distracts me with one thought and another screaming for attention from places unseen.
And soon I am lost, paralyzed, resentful, conceding defeat.