Thoughts.

I sort my thoughts,
but, then again,
doesn't everyone?
They're tucked away
and when I'm lonely
they come out to play.

I realize now that
I should've invested
in some locks,
because they aren't
nice playmates.

They taunt me, call
me names, and
creep into my dreams
when I'm not looking.
They change shape,
deceiving and tricking
their way into where
the sanity used to be.

There isn't any sanity
anymore. They've
taken it, and I
never even got to
say goodbye.

My thoughts aren't
mine anymore.