Meek Mind

My mild mind is meek and I do caress your thought
That inhabits your mind.
My manner inhibits stress, the very lamb of distress,
Each spot of anxiety is manufactured.
The smell of your teeth is cruel when you bite
For the food is a whim, a wish and forethought.
The inner thinking brain studied thoughts so fabulous
From the living centre we have named.
The teeth are like pencils of lead
That draw on thoughts of food.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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