A Thinking Mind is a Paining Mind

Those days when I am sad , without a reason , 

and within something withheld,
I think and murmur ,with no words to spell,
And when I look around for something to dwell
I start cursing myself, I seek for the cause,
But search is pain and kills me with a pause,

Am I sad because of the condition of the country?
or because last night I saw a dying girl begging on the street . 
Is that my quandary?

Is it because of the rise of insanity in my neighbourhood?
or because yesterday an honest guy died fighting for justice,

and then they branded him a crook?

Life gets obnoxious with all these wandering thoughts.
And then I sleep for a while in my thoughtless drought
Though it's a misery of it's own kind,
I feel happy when I stop thinking and settle as a blind, 
Because deep within I know and understand , that
A thinking mind is a paining mind.