Windows To My Soul

Windows To My Soul

Here I sit peeking out
the windows to my soul.
I'm questioning my mind
who appears in control.

He's like an athletic coach
whose team is in the dumps.
I'd like to trade him now
before I take more lumps.

What I think I could use
is a cheer leading team.
A gang to pump me up.
"You're the best," they would scream.

My mind goes on duty
with the alarm clock's ring.
Before that it's chaos.
I could be anything.

Circus lion tamer,
pilot or brick layer,
perhaps, a river boat
calliope player.

From out of my darkness
I peek at the others.
They appear harmless,
a cuddle of mothers.

No hostile actions,
no apparent dangers.
One can't be too careful
when dealing with strangers.

I think I'll close my eyes
and retreat into my soul,
a warm secure burrow
where I live like a mole.