Thoughts

It comes and goes.

It rarely stays;

It disappears, if you've got nothing to say.

It never bothers much;

It learned to stay down,

hidden away from routine and such.

It stands alone,

It waits to be summoned,

feeling lost and forlorn.

It dwells forgotten,

It knows you might be scared to entertain it.

Knowing what you'd find if you'd only contemplate it.