Inner speech:
The mind with its restless wings
Flaps like a butterfly
In search of its own nectar
And the brink of satisfaction,
Never settles at one spot.
Wistful thoughts
Threaded into a string of hope
Lands at the pole like a flag
Sometimes fluttering gently in the breeze
Then flapping vigorously in the whirlwind
And it will never be still.
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