I thought some of them were good,
Some elementary and some misunderstood,

But I thought I could compile them all,
And flip through them when I wanted to reminisce or recall,

It was a repertoire of my experiences after all,
Some good, some bad my thoughts withal,

Yes perhaps they weren’t of the academic kind,
I would say not even of the finest kind,

At best one could say they were kind of raw,
With hints of excellence but were certainly pure,

They all needed some polish,
Perhaps I needed their edges to burnish,
Perhaps to add some tact and furbish,

But then they wouldn’t be mine,
They wouldn’t my state of mind define,
They wouldn’t spell the vulnerability behind,
The raw, organic nature of my mind