I am hurting so much inside,
and I don’t understand why.
It’s a feeling hard to explain.
I want to do something,
but I don’t know what.
And I don’t know why.
Feeling, like a whale,
in a small pool,
swimming in circles.
But the only thing,
trapping me here is me.
I am not stuck.
I am not trapped.
There are things I can do.
I just don’t know what.
What I should. What I want.
So I pace, and start tasks,
only to stop them again.
Nothing fits, or feels right.
The itch is always there.
I can’t make it go away,
no matter where I scratch.
I could let it out with blood,
but that is a dark road,
so I stir, anxious, antsy.
Writing instead. Hoping.
Hoping that will lead me,
out of this state of mind.
Poetry
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