Bobscat
I was musical once, but no longer. The piano haunts the room waiting for someone musical but I must always disappoint her
If only she knew. I wish I could help her
Ask me for a thought about thought, and I'm lost. Not in thought, but out of it. What a strange thought!
Who thought thinking about thought would be so thought-provoking.
This is my home, my only true home. My houses shift but my place here stays because I must stay here, there is no escaping institution
Born in one, we will probably all die in one too. But I don't mind