My Brain

It is covered and shielded by the skull.
My brain is my shame.
At every step, it gives me trouble.
It restricts me from being brilliant.
Why does it rule me by making nonsense?

It weaves unnecessary things.
It compels me to spend the night with insomnia.
My brain accepts useless ideas.

My brain suffers from the “book phobia”.
When my eyes glance on a page,
it vibrates, heels and stews with hot blood without criteria.

My brain burns itself as the flame of fire,
and when it fails to succeed the purpose of life.
It is an unsounded type of a bomb;
it blasts in a wrath inside of a skull.

I want to take it out, and replace it
with a new brain, instead of staying
with this archaic brain.
Of course, I can direct it,
it will change me from insane to brilliant.

My brain will tolerate a crowd,
so I can join the disco dance.
It can make me able to stay in my solitude,
so I can enjoy the music and poetry.

My brain will be my pride.
It is covered and shielded by the skull.