People say I overthink, it's true,
My mind's a storm, emotions brew.
They see a mind that's overwrought,
A tangled mess, a troubled thought.
But in the chaos, senses keen,
I grasp the world, a vibrant scene.

So let them call me overthinker,
My pen, my weapon, my thought-sinker.
A symphony of sense takes flight,
In swirling lines and inky night.
In sketchy words and doodles wild,
I dance with feelings, reconciled.
Emotions blinker, a truth I find,
The doodle of sense, peace of mind.


© 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑧𝑎𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑐𝑎