Midas had that special gift
To turn whatever he touched to gold
Well I feel like a similar thing
Is what I have with what I try to hold.
But mind is not a touch of gold
For that would be a trap
I have been given the gift
Of what I touch becoming crap.
Seems that when I reach and try to keep
I get so tied up and it goes awry
That from now on I’ll keep to myself
And forget things and not even try.
Not that Midas got to enjoy his gold
For the touch ruined whatever he held
Others got to enjoy what he wanted
So my thoughts will be withheld.