Titles make me have to think

I'd rather not you see
For when I sit to write the cusp
A title makes me flee

Such obligation forces creativity
into a box
Like Goldilocks
If the bears were real

So what?  So.  Just so.
Socially awkward at times
Staring off into the distance
You think me wise
I think that's empty

I think a lot of thinks
And point out weakest links
But time best spent
Involves no thoughts at all

I'm nice, but don't like some
A few just like the scum
But they are merely opportunities
To practice and improve

From one symptom of nature,
to another:

This game is not serious.  Did you forget that you're the cutting edge of now?