Silence doesn’t necessarily mean detachment

I sense things sometimes, that might be true, maybe not

Thoughts, permanently in my brains ‘Pending Tray’

Maybe I’m right, maybe it’s all innocent

Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m paranoid

From time to time, I pick up those same thoughts

Wrestle with them for a while, draining energy

True, False, Relevant, Irrelevant, Important, Unimportant

I remain undecided as to where to file these thoughts

Then tiredly, I place them back in the ‘Pending Tray’